


'Cause Lone Wolves Need Other Wolves

by Leafontehwind



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angels, Because the Ghostfacer team is silly, Demons, Gen, Getting Together, Ghostfacers Webisodes, Ghosts, Stiles is kind of merciless, Vampires, there may be real plot eventually, youtube sensation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:38:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafontehwind/pseuds/Leafontehwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stumbles upon the Ghostfacers' videos on YouTube and winds up spending hours watching all of them, commenting on pretty much everything. Which  leads up to him posting response videos about the Supernatural world. He figures that it's harmless and if someone can get anything out of his new-found knowledge and it could help others out there, then cool. If not? They'll think it's a joke. Just some kid trying to use a shtick to garner his fifteen minutes of fame on YouTube.</p><p>What he doesn't expect is for the members of Ghostfacers showing up in Beacon Hills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this is going to be crack. I'm taking liberties on the subject matter of the Ghostfacers videos content. And the eventual appearance of the Winchesters because... well, just yes.
> 
> This is completely unbeta'd so, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy!!
> 
> (PS: I haven't written much SPN fanfiction, none of it is on this site. And I'm sure eventual slash pairings will happen. Because of reasons. This idea came as a joke that happened when my roommate finally gave in and started watching SPN. So, why not have a cross-over?)

Sometimes he wondered how he actually got himself into these situations. Looking for dead bodies in the woods, okay, he knew _how_  that one came up. Morbid curiosity and Stiles generally being just Stiles. But this time he hadn’t actually thought anything would come of it. It was mostly due to boredom. That and he really did spend an exorbitant amount of time on the Internet. Which, okay. Yeah, most teenagers could say that anyway. That was just what you did nowadays. Between Facebook, YouTube, Tumblr and not to mention salacious porn sites; it was pretty much a given that any kid with time on his or her hands would tinker away on whatever site said person preferred.

For Stiles, well, he was a fan of all of them. And Wikipedia, that one was fun too; even if some of the information was off, there were always certain amount of truth to find there. Google was another one of his favorites. It was a search engine, but it was still one of the few he frequented most. Right now, though? He kind of got detoured on YouTube. It wasn’t like there was a pressing supernatural case, if you will, that needed to be solved, so Stiles really didn’t find anything wrong with spending a couple hours watching videos.

As always, this all started with his curiosity. The bestiary meant that there were all kinds of supernatural things in the world and that made Stiles want to be more prepared. A good defense is a good offense, jeeze, now he was going with sports jargon? It sounded like something Finstock might say when he had his head out of his ass and made sense.

So, why not consult the Internet? Sure, a good ninety-percent of it was bullshit, but there had to be people out there that actually posted real and useful information. He had done pretty well so far trying to separate myth and truth, even bookmarked a couple of recommend ed sites from sources that seemed to be useful in the past.

After a good hour and a half, he stumbled on a group called Ghostfacers. They even had a goddamned theme song. Were ghosts real? It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’ve encountered so far. Werewolves, Kanimas, hell, there was that one time with the wood nymph. So long as there wasn’t such a thing as a wendigo; those things sounded freaking terrifying.

Stiles leaned forward in his chair, clicking on the link through to their personal [website](http://ghostfacers.wordpress.com/). They had a description of what they did, cast and crew bios as well as a blog. Huh. Was it like those reality shows that tried to prove or disprove the existence of spirits or whatever? That was kind of what it sounded like, the name alone was a little unfortunate, but since Ghost Hunters was taken, Stiles supposed that they went with the next best option. His amber eyes scanned the page, taking in each sentence while his mouth stretched into a grin.

“Douchnozzilian?” Stiles read outloud followed by a loud laugh. He was totally going to use that word some time. It was just ridiculous to be amazing and people would probably give him _that_ look (especially if he said it around a particularly grumpified Sourwolf); which he was perfectly fine with being on the receiving end of because the annoyance was more amusing than anything. These guys sounded hilarious. Even if it was a joke, hell, it would be amusing to watch. And, really? Apart from gaining some pertinent information about whatever creature may or may not exist, what else was important at two in the morning?

As the [video](http://ghostfacers.wordpress.com/) started, Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, really trying not to start laughing immediately at the poor quality of the show. It really looked like they shot it in someone’s garage. No, these guys looked like they were at least in their mid to late twenties, Stiles totally assumed that maybe it was one of their parents’ garages. Which kind of made it at least ten times better.

 _Figure up what you’re up against?_  Well, of course. Stiles rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. Obviously you had to figure up what you were up against and take care of it. What else would you do? Just traipse in there half-cocked and hope and pray for the best? Maybe these guys should change their name to ‘Ghost Hunting for Dummies’ complete with weird lab coats. Were they going for the mad scientist look? Or just trying to look smart? Maybe the later since the guy on the right had on glasses a second ago. Those definitely didn’t look like prescription.

 _Salt!_ Okay, yeah. That made sense, it was in enough movies and myths that he figured there could be some truth to it. It was mentioned in several books too that salt was the repellant of evil. Hell, it worked against the Sanderson sisters, didn’t it? He had even come across sayings that said it warded off vampires and demons as well. It could have all been speculation but where it came up several times, Stiles pretty much chocked it up to truth; you know, _if_  demons, vampires and ghosts existed.

 _Iron!_  And, again. This actually made sense. So even if they were completely ridiculous, at least they were showing that they had actually done even the smallest bit of research. So, yeah. Iron was a conductor of electricity, so if ghosts use electromagnetic energy the iron would drain or dispel the ghost. There was also a lot of superstitions that revolved around iron... So that could also be a thing. Granted, he already figured that some of these really common things had some semblance of truth in them. Again, this could all just be a load of horseshit.

Maybe he thought that just a second too soon. The next thing that came out of their mouths, well, lets just say that Stiles was glad that he hadn’t been drinking anything because he probably would have choke on it or had it shoot out of his nose (which, was definitely not something he enjoyed especially if it was caffeinated, bubbles hurt like a son of a bitch).

Because nothing, and he means nothing, could have prepared Stiles for what came up next in the video. Ghost. Martial. Arts? Ohmygod. These guys cannot be serious... right? No. this had to be a joke. If they were ghosts, how the hell would physical attacks actually work on them?

Okay. So, apart from this being pretty much retarded and the people were completely full of it. It was clear that they knew nothing about the supernatural. Which, maybe that was kind of the point. Two friends just goofing off. But, seriously, this was hilarious.

Stiles pretty much almost died laughing, having to remind himself that his dad was down the hall sleeping, a hand over his mouth muffling the sound as the words ‘ghost vagina’ were uttered. He never thought he would ever hear that turn of phrase in his entire life. And this? This video? Was pure, freaking gold.

And god. The slow motion. WHATTHEHELL. It wasn’t even real slow motion, they were just walking really slowly... what in the hell.

Stiles went down to the comment section immediately after the video was over. He couldn’t not... that was amazing. Amazingly horrible and bad. And they deserved his praise.

  
 **ByAmngWlvs**  2 minutes ago

Dudes, that was amazing. I appreciate the fact that you guys brought in known facts before making yourselves look like complete morons. It was pretty amazing. And Ghost Martial Arts? Who even thinks of that?

Really, thanks. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.

  
 **Ghostfacers**  1 minute ago

We appreciate you watching the video but we assure you this is no joke. Ghosts are real and you should take it upon yourself to be prepared if you ever have the misfortune of running into one. Especially if they’re the more manelovent ones. Be sure to watch some of our other videos for more information on the supernatural.

  
 **ByAmgWlvs**  30 seconds ago

...Yeah, sure guys. I’ll get right on that. I appreciate that you’re taking this whole thing very seriously, staying in characters. It’s a good way to run a vlog, totally.

I’ll be in the real world.

  
 **Ghostfacers**  15 seconds ago

We sincerely hope that you never need our help, might as well call the douchenozzle Winchesters. That way we don’t have to deal with your insolence. We lost a good friend out there, we don’t take non-believers lightly; especially because we know the truth.

  
 **ByAmgWlvs** Just Now

The Truth is out there, thanks Scully. I didn’t say I was a non-believer.

  
Eh, he would just leave it like that. didn’t need to goad them into it any more. They were sticking to their thing, dealing out their comments and sticking to their guns. Maybe it was a bit of artistic integrity. He had seen it on the Internet before, it was totally a thing. And, he had to admit he also saw it all over the LBD videos and twitter feed. So sue him, it was an awesome vlog that was surprisingly well done. Plus, it was Pride & Prejudice. He was a sucker for that book and most adaptations. It stemmed from him remembering it being one of his mother’s favorites and there was a very vivid memory of watching the BBC version of it at the hospital with her.

Anyway, if that wasn’t worth his time, he didn’t know what in the hell was. Stiles scrolled through their videos and then he saw it. Werewolves man. Werewolves. Oh no, he had to see this.

Oh god. Was that so wrong. So, so... _so_  wrong.

Stiles had to make sure to show this whole thing to Scott. Hell, maybe he’d even make popcorn and have the whole pack watch them. Maybe he could set it up like it was this huge important thing, like something he found that they had to look into and deal with as a group. Christ on a cracker, he could even imagine the pinched expression on Derek’s face as he loomed off to the side.

Ed, Stiles figured out their names at the end of the last video, sat just off center in an oversized chair that was covered with a smooth looking velvet. He was wearing a red ascot that sat slightly askew, his hands pressed together before him as he stared back into the camera in this over-the-top sort of way. “Tonight, my dear viewers, we delve into a topic that we as Ghostfacers never thought that we would witness. Something that we never thought that we were going to have a part in.”

The camera cut to Harry, who was dressed similar to Ed, except his ascot was gold, matching the pair of square hipster glasses he had perched on his nose. “Ghosts, as you know, are our forte. But this, you need to brace yourself for what we are about to tell you. Werewolves, lunar children, do exist.”

“It may be a tough pill to swallow,” Ed sat back in his chair, looking down away from the camera pausing probably for dramatic effect. “But, we assure you, what we’re telling you is true. Our next video will have documented proof of our findings. Though, right now, we Ghostfacers figured that we owed it to you, our loyal viewers, to put up a video of facts that might mean life or death for you daring individuals.”

Stiles’ eyes were glued to the screen, taking in the whole video with a strange sort of reverence. This was not just morbid curiosity, for a good five seconds, he thought that maybe, just maybe, these silly goofballs would get it right. That they had actually seen a werewolf and that someone might actually be able to commiserate with him about what he had gone through.

According to the Ghostfacers team there were very specific things to be known about werewolves.

  1. They only turned on the full moon.
  2. Any werewolf can turn someone else, not just the Alpha.
  3. Silver was their kryptonite _(their words, not Stiles’)._
  4. Vamptonite was also pretty lethal _(What the hell was that?)._
  5. They remember nothing about their time as a werewolf.



  
And that wasn’t even the worst of it. There was apparently only one Alpha. Not like each pack had one, no. Just one Alpha. In all the world.

Stiles knew that there were all different kinds of spins put on the werewolf legend for entertainment purposes, he totally understood that. He even understood that sometimes people got things wrong, it happened. Well, it happened when people didn’t research properly. Their ineptitude was just... wow. This was all just ten shades of hilariousness.

He took a swig of his energy drink, toe tapping as he thought of just how wrong these people had gotten it. Even if it was a vlog about the supernatural, it was so far off that Stiles just wanted to right all of what they had wrong.

Wait, couldn’t he? Somehow just make a blog that was masquerading like the Ghostfacers one and actually try to get the real information about what he knew about the supernatural out there? All he really needed was to use some of the IP blockers and try to make sure no one could really track where he was and make sure his face wasn’t showing... it could be a thing. Maybe it would help someone out there. What could be the harm in that?

That’s it. Stiles stood up and retrieved his red sweater, pulling the hood up over his head, checking out how he looked in the web cam for good measure. It took a few times to adjust it just right, make sure that it was nearly impossible to see his face or discern the majority of his features. Which, obviously, was just as important as making sure that people would have issues tracking down where he was. Just in case.

His video wound up being around five minutes long after a quick, not entirely skilled edit. Maybe it would come off better that way, like it was intentionally choppy, complete with a grainy touch with one of the applications that came pre-installed in his movie maker program. Stiles only really used his webcam to chat to his friends (which he had been using it less and less over the past year and a half), so he was a little inexperienced with the program. Even given that, he figured that it came out pretty good.

He posted it online before linking to it in a comment off of the Ghostfacers own video before he stretched his hands above his head with a yawn. Stiles glanced over toward his alarm clock and shook his head. It was now five o’clock. It was a good thing that tomorrow was Sunday and his dad wouldn’t bat an eyelash if he slept in.

While Stiles practically face planted onto his bed, he didn’t think about the fact that his video could go viral and bring a whole new level of absurdity into his life.

Seriously, it always came down to his damn curiosity.


	2. Sirens aren't fun and games at all, they're tricky little sons of bitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles doesn't take down his first YouTube video and then there's an encounter with a Siren. Feelings happen, as does another video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghostfacers don't show up in this update but the next, yay set up? I apologize, it didn't feel natural to rush it, yanno? 
> 
> <3

Stiles hadn’t actually thought about posting another video on YouTube. Everything he had done in the middle of the of the night last night was completely and totally on a whim. Regardless of that, he was pretty sure if some of the pack found out about what he did? They’d growl and shove him into things. Maybe even kick his ass a little bit. Stiles woke up in a bit of a panic, tumbling out of bed and falling to the floor a mess of limbs and sheets. He probably should just take it down and forget about it. Save himself a shit ton of grief and pretend that none of it had actually happened.

He untangled himself from his sheet and awkwardly made his way to his computer chair. He had only gotten a handful of hours of sleep and the fact that he was still waking up, well, it didn’t exactly help his coordination. The teenager’s mind was going a mile a minute, even despite the fact that he had just woken up. What if he hadn’t set up the IP re-routing program properly? What if he, due to his lack of sleep or general ignorance at the time (ignorance masquerading as pure stupidity, more like) forgot to actually remove something from the camera’s view that would be a tell-tale sign of where he was? Would it be like a calling card for some big bad? Jesus, he could have just sent out a giant ‘WELCOME TO BEACON HILLS’ sign?

“Come on, come on,” He muttered to himself as he waited for his computer to boot up. It seemed to be loading slowly, as if just to mock him for his poor life decisions. Of course, of course his computer, who had never failed him before since he got it would think that now was a good time to fuck with him because it knew better. Maybe the next thing that would threaten people in Beacon Hills would be the technology, like that really terrible film with Ian Somer-whatever his name was and Kristen Bell. Stiles would be s screwed if that happened. Not that he didn’t get along with books and researching the old fashioned way, but it was seriously less precise and your information would be horribly unvaried if you didn’t have a decent selection of source materials.

Okay, now he was getting off topic. Where was he again?

Right. The video. He punched the air and stroked the side of the screen as he pulled up the webpage for YouTube. He went completely slack jawed as his account popped up and he saw the hits that he had gained in the last handful of hours. And, there were comments. Some were actual questions while others commented him on the grainy feel and textures of the video, calling it very artistic and how some of them couldn’t wait for more.

Well, okay. five-hundred some odd hits (and climbing) was pretty respectable for a recently posted video. It wasn’t by the thousands, but Stiles probably would have had a coronary if that had happened. And, after rewatching the video, Stiles figured it was pretty much harmless. There was nothing in the video that would lead it back to him or Beacon Hills. But, maybe he would double check with Danny if there was any other precautions he could take... so long as he kept it vague. He really didn’t need anyone really knowing what he did.

So, okay. The video would stay up.

He saw that there was a new comment, asking him when the next video would be up. Well, first he would have to think of something to talk about. Kanimas... well, that was something that seemed all to specific to Beacon Hills and if anyone from their little supernatural group came across it, well, then Stiles was pretty sure they’d be able to pin-point exactly where the information came from. And, honestly, Stiles really enjoyed being alive and breathing.

Shit. He’d have to wait for the next big and bad supernatural beings to invade their territory. Stiles shrugged, his adoring fans could wait. Maybe he could do a Q&A video after he posted the first one. Just incase there was anyone who had something good to ask, again, it might help save someone’s life. Plus, Stiles would be lying if he said he hated the attention he would be getting if this got any bigger. He didn’t have any special supernatural skill set and this could be his thing. He was already awesome at researching, so why the hell not?

 

\----

  
He didn’t actually have to wait that long for something to actually come along. Not that Stiles actually _wanted_  something to go wrong, wanted everyone’s lives in danger. The opposite, actually. Sure, part of him (a pretty big, sizable part of him) really enjoyed this, enjoyed the adrenaline he got from researching and hatching a plan to deal with anything that came along. He liked the way, despite the way that they all worked and thought in different ways, they all seemed to have their own strengths and applied them as necessary. Over a year ago, he wouldn’t have thought that the people he felt closest to, his pack would work so well as a team.

  
Still, he shuffled into his room, closing the door behind him and dropping his backpack to the ground feeling like an oversized bruise. Every muscle seemed to ache, and he was pretty damn sure that the scrape on the side of his cheek still had bits of gravel stuck in it. Which, let me tell you, hurt like a son of a bitch. Stiles had to keep trying to not make a facial expression, lest he remember just how far he had been thrown and dragged by a freaking siren.

He grabbed his red sweatshirt and threw it on before zipping it all the way up and throwing the hood over his head. Once again, he tugged the hood up so it covered and shadowed his eyes.

Stiles set up the web camera, making sure he was framed as close to the center of of the shot as he could manage with his hands still shaking slightly.

 _’Sirens are also real, apparently,’_  He lifted his hands up in a vague, ‘who knew’ gesture. ' _Which is kind of a pain in the ass since they can look like whatever they want, whatever their victim wants. Tricky, right? Let’s go over the facts.’_

_‘Sirens can take human form, like I said, they can appear as anything they want. It can be male or female. They can read minds, maniplate feelings of love...’_

Stiles paused, closing his eyes as he thought about Scott rushing toward him with his yellow eyes and claws out. Telling him that if he just killed him, then he could be together with Charlie. Charlie was apparently a werewolf that Scott was meant to be best friends with, someone who understood him better than Stiles could. Someone who could Scott didn’t have to be gentle with.

_’It can be platonic or even sexual feelings, it doesn’t really matter.’_

Then...Christ. Then there was Derek. The muscle working in his jaw as he fought the change, his red eyes glowing red as the Siren stalked up to him, looking like a dark haired version of Kate. All confidence and something that Stiles had to describe as swagger for lack of a better term. She took a sip of a bottle of soda before handing it back to Derek, a predatory grin plastered on her perfect face, revealing a row of pearly white teeth that gleamed in the street lights. Stiles had tried to scream out and tell Derek not to take a sip when Scott had him pressed against the wall, hand bone crushingly tight around his throat. All of the air had left his lungs and his hands had fruitlessly trying to ease his best friend’s grip around his neck. This was not supposed to go this way, Scott was not supposed to accidentally swap spit with the demon, wasn’t supposed to feel all murderous towards Stiles.

Hell, he had even told them what they weren’t supposed to do, what the main do’s and don’ts were for some stranger who came up to them and showed some sort of interest in them. And, now there was Derek, lifting up the bottle towards his lips before his eyes cut away from the woman, locking onto the sight of Scott basically choking Stiles out. He tossed the bottle aside and growled at the woman, before reaching out and tossing her to the side.

He rushed towards the two teenagers, managing to pry Scott away from Stiles, standing between them as Stiles fell gracelessly toward the ground, gasping for air.

After that, it had gotten a bit fuzzy. The siren started pinning Derek against Scott, murmuring to Derek about how Scott had tried to kill Stiles, _his_ Stiles. With his fragile bones and quick wit. Fuck.

 _‘The thing to remember is, when something seems to be too good to be true, it probably is. So, boys and girls, be careful about swapping spit with that perfect stranger. The Siren tries to get it’s victims to kill someone they love. Someone close to them whether it be a friend, family member, or...’_ Stiles cleared his throat. _‘Someone who is a romantic interest or a significant other.’_

Stiles really thought that Derek was going to kill Scott. He wasn’t sure how the Alpha got under the Siren’s spell, maybe when dots were dancing across his vision, something had happened; oxygen deprivation was a pain in the ass. But, while they were distracted, the Siren figured that it was it’s turn to beat the crap out of Stiles. It leaned over his slumped form, red lips twisting into a sinister smile as he pressed his lips firmly together, trying to steady his breathing through his nose.

She shook her head sweetly at him, telling him that she didn’t want to infect him, that it would be too easy to have him try and throw himself in the middle of the werewolf match. That, no, she wanted him for own little amusements. After all, she needed to be entertained while the wolves were busy. That was how Stiles found himself unceremoniously thrown towards a stack of wooden pallets, the palms of his hands burning from the impact that he desperately tried to brace the rest of his body from. He really didn’t need another concussion. Then he was dragged backwards off of them by his ankles, his face was turned to the side as he felt the red hot pain of being dragged across the ground.

It wasn’t until after he was flipped over, when the bitch was licking up the side of his face that he had the chance to dig out the bronze knife Deaton had given him out of his pocket. It needed to be dipped in the blood of one of her infected victims, and well, Stiles had managed to nick Scott’s arm before he was crowded up against the wall. Stiles just hoped that the smear of blood was enough since most of the blood probably wiped off in the tussle. Well, it had to be worth a shot. It was that or he was probably going to be dead in the next thirty seconds, he really didn’t have much of a choice.

_A Siren’s true form can be seen in a mirror, but it’s real weakness, the only documented and tried and true way to kill them is with a bronze knife dipped in the blood of one of it’s infected victims. It’s the only way to release a victim from the Siren’s spell.’_

Stiles leaned forward, the camera now only being able to catch his lips and nothing else. _‘Just a secret between you and me, I prefer werewolves over Sirens. At least, they’re less manipulative. Well,’_ The corners of his lips quirked into a small smile. _‘Most of them, anyway.’_

With that he stopped the recording. He changed the settings, having the program give the video the same grainy, horror movie-esque feel to it. After watching it, Stiles felt that it gave it something more that he didn’t clean himself up first. The wounds on his face and neck probably just looked like he had really gotten into this video. That, unlike the last one, he actually put the effort into putting on costume makeup to make it look like he actually got the shit kicked out of him. Hey, at least it looked authentic. Which was good, since it was.

Stiles sighed, uploading the video and shutting his computer before he shucked off his sweatshirt before carefully pealing off his shirt. He looked in the floor length mirror that was hidden behind the door of his closet and winced. He was really going to have to make up a good story if his dad saw any of this. His face and neck were bad enough, but, crap. There was a large bruise on his left upper abdomen, and when he turned around and looked over his shoulder, his back was a littered with purpling marks that were going to look even worse come morning. At least, with his usual layering habits, no one would think much of him digging out that rarely used turtleneck in the deep recesses of his closet and layering it with two other shirts. Granted, he really just hoped they didn’t have a random heat wave anytime soon. That would be really freaking convenient.

The teenager grabbed the two bottles of cream he had picked up from the drug store, giving the woman a long-winded story about a particularly grueling lacrosse practice. He looked at each of them, trying to gauge which one would be better this time. Given that one had a pain-reliever in it, he was going to go with that one. Since he felt like a supernatural punching back at the moment. Stiles really needed to pick up his game on his defenses, maybe Deaton could teach him a few things. Deaton, right. First thing tomorrow, he was going to see if the good ol’ vet had something to take the edge off his pain. Hell, even if he had something that was a supernatural grade painkiller, Stiles was sure it would be super awesome on the human variety.

He was rubbing the cream gently on his abdomen, lips forming a tight line that was something between a grimace and a frown when he heard his window slide open. Stiles could see the flash of movement before hearing the sound of two boot clad feet softly touch down on his floor. He would be lying if his heart-rate didn’t pick up. Stiles had told Scott he was fine but wanted to be left alone, not that that apparently held the same weight where Derek was involved.

“Hey,” The gruff werewolf said, breaking the silence as Stiles continued to massage the cream into his aching skin.He let out a sigh of relief, the pain was ebbing ever so slightly, the constant throbbing wasn’t quite a dull ache but it was the slightest bit better. Stiles would take whatever he could take at the moment.

Stiles licked his lips, eyes dropping away from the Alpha’s face as he drew in a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to see him right now, not after what went down tonight. It was all too much and Stiles wasn’t sure what any of it meant, not really. Sure, maybe Derek loved him in the way that he loved his pack, but part of Stiles... Shit. He didn’t know. Maybe for a second or two he thought that Derek loved him in a different way.

No, that wasn’t his life. He wasn’t a romantic interest, he was the quirky sidekick, the best friend you root for but who never exactly becomes the leading man. Stiles was fine with it, he totally was. Okay, mostly. At least sixty-percent fine with it.

“Please don’t tell me there’s another supernatural emergency. I’d like to be fully recovered from this last one before the next one comes up,” He tried to flash a smile at Derek, but instead he winced as he remembered the scrape on his cheek. That was definitely getting cleaned out next, he wondered if there was a pair of tweezers in the bathroom still in case he needed it to pull gravel out of the cut.

Derek took a few steps forward, his hands clenching and unclenching a few times before they slid into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I came to check on you.”

Stiles stared a few times, and maybe there was a serious amount of blinking before his brain caught up with his mouth, “I’m great. Alive, which is pretty much a miracle after that crazy bitch tried to take most of us out. It was pretty touch and go for a while, but... you know. The human pack member is pretty damn awesome, if he does say so himself.”

He turned around, unable to keep staring at Derek without having a myriad of emotions course through him. Instead he went back to his self-ministrations. Stiles tilted his chin upward, squeezing more of the cream onto the tips of his fingers before slowly working it onto the finger shaped bruises on his neck. Stiles closed his eyes as his fingers worked over the sensitive skin, trying not to let out a little whimper as his fingers worked over the skin were Scott’s fingers hand been pressing the hardest.

“You... don’t look okay,” Derek managed from just behind him, the heat of his breath tickled the back of Stiles’ neck, his human heart sped up again. It wasn’t that he wasn’t entirely used to the whole sneaking up on him trend that happened between him and the werewolves in his life, it was more the sheer lack of distance between them. Which, again, it shouldn’t be a shock. Derek had a habit of getting all up in his personal bubble, it was a thing he did and Stiles usually chalked it up to him being a werewolf and sometimes it had to do with intimidation and other times... Well, maybe other times it just had to do with pack dynamics. Stiles was never really sure.

Stiles let out a choked sort of laugh, opening his eyes to meet Derek’s gaze in the mirror just over his left shoulder. “Well, that’s what happens when your best friend tries to kill you because he’s under a Siren’s spell, your Alpha buddy somehow tries to defend you and said Siren treats you like a rag doll.” Stiles chewed on his bottom lip. “I’m fine, we’re all fine. The Siren’s dead so we’ll just call this a win. Honestly, it could have been, like, a billion times worse.”

Derek nodded once, seemingly in agreement before reaching his hand around Stiles to grab the Bengay. After a minute, the werewolf squeezed a decent amount of it in his hand before placing the tube on his bedside table. Stiles could hear the Alpha rub his hands together, warming it up before sliding his hands over the abused areas of the teenagers back. Stiles was pretty thankful, since there was no way he was going to be able to reach all of his back, let alone it wasn’t going to be easy to twist enough to get any of it really. He braced one hand against the door beside the mirror, his chin dropping to his chest as he let Derek gently work the muscle and cream into his aching muscles.

“You know, there’s a good seventy-five percent of massages ending in happy endings," The hands on his back stilled, one was dangerously close to his hip were the Siren’s hand hand gripped him painfully as she died. “Just throwing that fact out there. Not that... you know."

Derek’s hands went back to work, and every time he let out a breath of air and it caressed his skin, it made Stiles shiver. There was nothing intimate about this, Stiles kept having to tell himself. That this was just his Alpha checking in on their weakest member, it was just Derek trying to take care of him the best he could. “Are these the worst of the bruises?"

Stiles looked up, eyes meeting Derek’s own in the reflection. “Uh, I think so. I haven’t really had the time to inspect my whole body. Torso was my first spot check." He didn’t think anything else really hurt, well maybe his left leg, but that was probably more from strain and not an actual bruise. Well, unless it was from where his shin hit the edge of the pallet, but, he didn’t think that the muscle or bruise cream would really do anything to it.

He straightened up slowly rolling his shoulders before he turned around to face Derek, “I might have a bruise or two on my legs, but I’m reasonably sure that it was mostly just my back."

Derek tugged on his chin, making Stiles cheat his head to the side so he could properly inspect the angry scrape. “And your neck, and your face. We, you can’t keep putting yourself in danger Stiles. We could have taken care of it today without you. Unless you like being beat to within an inch of your life."

Stiles shook off the hand, turning to glare at Derek as defiantly as he could manage. They were more or less the same height, Derek just had an absurd amount of muscle mass that he wouldn’t dream of contending with. Other than that, and, well, okay, the whole werewolf thing, Stiles was pretty sure that he could be as intimidating as Derek was. At least he hoped he put up a good fight. “If it wasn’t for me, you would have torn apart Scott! I’m pretty sure it was me who killed the bitch, let alone the only one who _didn’t_ wind up infected so... yeah. A thank you would be nice!"

“Stiles, dammit. That’s not what I meant! --I can’t see you get hurt anymore. None of us can. We need to keep you safe, not drag you into danger head on when you don’t heal like we do, when you could have easily been killed . Scott was this close to killing you, and he’s your best friend! If I wasn’t there to stop him...

“You don’t think I don’t know that? Somehow you remembered about the whole saliva of doom thing but then? After you pushed Scott away you were going after him... just because she told you! If I didn’t have the bronze knife, who knows what would have happened! Scott would be dead just because you couldn’t help yourself from macking it with some Siren bitch!!!”

Derek let out a frustrated growl, stepping into Stiles’ personal space. His eyes flashed red for the briefest of moments before flitting back to their normal gray-green. “I wasn’t infected, Stiles! Not... not in the same way." The werewolf scrubbed a hand over his head, ruffling his impossibly perfect hair. Which, really, it was unfair that his hair didn’t look any worse for wear. “You said she plays with emotions.” Derek ground out, eyes searching Stiles’ eyes for what felt like a long moment, searching for something that Stiles couldn’t exactly say. “She was pitting me against Scott, and it didn’t take her Siren call to control me.”

Stiles blinked rapidly. He knew that a Siren could read minds. That she, he... _It_ could manipulate feelings, manipulate love, in whatever way that it felt would help them reach their endgame. “So... what? You would have killed Scott if we didn’t manage to kill the Siren and break it’s hold over him? Just because...”Stiles sucked in a harsh breath, trying to sum up the courage of the words that were left, always left, unspoken. “Just because he was bent on killing me?”

The silence was freaking palpable, Derek’s eyes dropped ever so slightly, gazing at Stiles’ lips for a moment before he took a step back. “He wouldn’t be able to deal with the fact that he killed you.”

And, wow. Okay, that was all he could say? He always knew that there were double meanings to what people said, words left unspoken. “And... what about you? Could you have... would you have been okay if he had killed me? You’d still have Scott. The sort of pack member. I’m just a human. I’m not... I’m an honorary part of your pack but I’m not really anything. Why wouldn’t you just save him and not me?”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ shoulders, leveling his gaze. “Stiles,” His voice sounded pained, laden with the things that he couldn’t say, that he possibly wasn’t able to say.Stiles wanted so much for Derek to say something ridiculous, something completely off kilter like how he would pick Stiles over Scott any day, how he would hate if Stiles died trying to preserve the pack. That he wanted and or needed Stiles as part of his pack, that having Stiles around was a good thing.

“Derek,” Stiles said by way of response, the silence was going on for far too long and he wanted to hear what Derek was going to say, what he could say about this whole thing. But, maybe, just maybe... What he said was enough. Maybe telling Stiles that he would have saved him over Scott was the best declaration that he would ever get. He knew that Derek was stunted emotionally, that was what happened when your entire family died and you blamed yourself for it. When you lost everyone you ever loved because of some woman you thought you loved who was just using you.

Instead of pushing further with words, Stiles drew in a shakey breath and leaned forward. Derek all but jumped backwards, forcing more distance between them. The Alpha’s eyes were wide, impossibly wide as he stared back at Stiles. “I have to go.”

Without further warning, Stiles was alone in his room, Derek having all but bolted out the window. Stiles rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, letting out a hiss when he rubbed over the bruise from earlier that he had yet to put some of the muscle cream over. Of course, of course, he had read the entire situation wrong. Derek cared about him, cared about his pack. It wasn’t like he cared about Stiles specifically. He was just... he was just part of his pack. That was it. Everything that he was doing was to protect his pack, human and werewolf alike.

Stiles let out a shakey sigh and walked over to his bed before crawling over the covers. He didn’t have enough will power to change into pajamas let alone crawl under the blankets. He felt so soul weary, so freaking tired that he could sleep for a day at least. He was going to take this challenge seriously, not get up for as long as possible. He had no school tomorrow, no important things to do whatsoever. Sleeping and wallowing seemed like the best idea possible. Surprisingly, it didn’t take him long to drift off. And, honestly, he needed to be clear headed for what was coming tomorrow. Since, what he didn’t know was that his online life and real life were going to collide in a pretty horrible way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The no kissing is blamed on my two friends, they know who they are. They said close but no cigar was good for this update. *cries* I tried hard not to make them make out. It was trying. Really. Really trying.


	3. Don't be a Facer Hater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at summaries. Stuff happens, coffee is spilled, Derek is thoughtful and someone's touched by an angel.

Naturally, when there’s something on your mind, sleep is a fickle and wholly evil mistress. One that doesn’t come when you call and even beg for it’s sweet release. No, she just sits there, making your eyelids heavy and your brain ache from sheer exhaustion. She just watches as you suffer, teasing you with the idea of sleep. Bringing you to the brink, close enough to taste it but never giving you the satisfaction.

  
Stiles let out a loud sigh as he lay on his stomach, face turned to the side while it was all but smooshed into his favorite pillow. He desperately wished that he could have been too tired _not_ to sleep. That he could have just passed the hell out about five minutes after Derek left him to all but face plant onto his bed. But, because it was his life and it was him... well... Nope. No dice. Live was just not that kind to him. Instead, he spent a handful of hours tossing and turning (okay, tossing and turning as much as he could when his entire body felt like an ill-treated punching bag), thinking about what he had tried earlier. 

Because, honestly, he should have known better. It wasn’t like Derek was confessing anything by looking in on him. He was totally just doing his ‘papa bear Alpha routine.’ (Which was totally a thing). And not at all an over the top confession of his secret feelings toward Stiles and appreciation for his inherent hotness. 

Though, even with thinking about what Derek had done, without it’s potential and non-existent underlying meaning, got him to go over the werewolf’s character in length. And, if he was doing character studies on the people in his life (something he never really did unless he had a unrequited love thing going on, see: Lydia Martin) it was never, ever under any circumstances. Over thinking was a son of a bitch.

  
Except, well, once he got his mind set on something, he had a habit of combing through it and picking it to pieces before he could stop himself. It was just the way his mind worked, yanno? It was one of his things. He knew that Derek was gruff sometimes. Or, you know, most of the time. He knew that he easily could come off the wrong way; and, hell, who didn’t? But, more than that, Stiles also knew that under all of that was a seriously wounded and jaded guy who still managed to care about people in his own way. Sure he made bad decisions, but that was part of life and it was how people learned. Derek might have been born a werewolf, but he was still only human. At least that was what Stiles figured. Even with the wolf-y side, he was just a guy. Someone who lost everyone they loved because of a psycho he thought had loved him. 

So maybe Derek had a habit of sometimes going about things the wrong way. But it was pretty understandable with all the power of being an Alpha compiled with the whole mess of issues he was already dealing with (which was already pretty freaking intense), so Stiles could understand it. He could understand _him_ And, it even made sense that the guy would have issues with expressing his feelings, opening up to anyone would be really difficult given his history.

  
Even with knowing all of that, Stiles had quite obviously read the entire situation the wrong way. He really should have known Derek didn’t think about him _that_ way. Sure Stiles was awesome but this was just more proof to the argument that he was just the sidekick in his own feature film; and wasn’t that about the saddest thing ever? 

God dammit. It hit him. Why didn’t it occur to him before? He was totally Zach Braff in his own life. And wasn’t that just pathetic? Not that there was anything wrong with Zach Braff, he was pretty much the man. But, still. There was also nothing wrong with wanting to be the leading man. Maybe not Brad Pitt style but the quirky adorable leading man... That could totally be a thing, right? 

Slowly, he got up from bed to retrieve his laptop from his desk along with a DVD from the stack in his bookcase before making his way back to his bed. If he wasn’t going to sleep, at least he was going to let his brain not wander off to dangerous and depressing subjects. There was no room for angst in his life for the moment. Nope. Zero. Nilch. Nada. 

Plus, X2 was pretty much the best X-Men film ever made (First Class was a close second even though the continuity was a little bit fuzzy at best with the other films). One could never go wrong with this movie. It really did have the best opening and introduction to a character ever. Hands down. If there were any argument before to the contrary, the film just proved that Nightcrawler was a complete badass. Even if he was sort of hijacked to try and kill slash terrorize the president... Eh, semantics. 

By the time that eight o’clock rolled around, Stiles decided enough was freaking enough. He needed something to do that was more than regretting his life decisions while watching clips of X-Men: Evolution on YouTube. He figured that he had more than enough time to do that later and that he could actually be semi-productive for the moment at hand. After a quick shower, he was going to hit the coffee shop before trudging over to Deaton’s and seeing if the dude had any sort of healing elixir or herbs, or whatever the hell, anything th at might aid and speed up his healing progress on the more visible marks that littered his skin for the next couple of days. 

He left his baby in the driveway, eying it as he walked down the path away from his house. Stiles figured that while he enjoyed driving, he seriously did not envy the time before he had access to the Jeep, that a walk might do him good. Sure, he was still in a large amount of pain, but the night had left his limbs stiff and aching and the thought of walking the distance to the center of town seemed like a decent enough idea. A good stretch and a bit of fresh air... that was something that would help, right? Either way, it wasn’t like the walk was really going to make anything worse. Well, unless he wound up mauled by an animal or supernatural being, but he chances of that seemed slim. Usually there was a small amount of down time between the supernatural events, he figured luck was probably on his side. 

Stiles slid his earbuds into place, starting on his early morning quest for caffeine. Slacker radio was his only friend at the moment, throwing good tunes his way as he took the fifteen minute or so walk to the cafe. Even though he thought that he was in the clear from anything really bad happening, his eyes kept darting around as if to warily catch something amiss, maybe some red eyes watching him from the line of trees to his left. Stiles shook the thought away, definitely not wanting to revisit that line of thought for maybe the fifteenth time in the last twelve hours. 

He forgot that people _actually_ went to the one non-chain shop this early in the morning (he thought that maybe he was going to miss the early morning rush that was presumably at around six or so). Sure, there was a Starbucks a few blocks down but it seemed like the morning crowd seemed to be loyal and liked to support local business owners. Stiles had a sneaking suspicion that the lower prices and lack of elitist douchery certainly helped. 

While standing in line, he remembered to pull his hood on, noticing old Mrs. Gardner eyeing his neck. Of course, that probably meant that there would be a discussion with her knitting club about just what the Sheriff’s hyper-active son got into in his free time. He wondered if they’d go more with the troubled teen bit or BDSM. Probably the later, he totally and one-hundred and fifty percent blamed Fifty Shades of Gray. And, really. Would the hype of that book _ever_ die down? Of course he read it; blame his cursed curiosity. With all the buzz about it, he needed to see what all the hooplah was about. Needless to say, Stiles had been severely disappointed. All it wound up being was just some poorly written smut that was just a tad taboo and therefor elicited gossip. He had read better porn on the Internet. 

He drummed his hands on the side of his thighs, nodding his head to the music for about five minutes before he made it to the counter. Stiles brandished a smile, ignoring the ache it caused in his poor cheek, and ordered a large hot coffee with two shots of espresso in it and just a splash of milk. The lack of sleep gave him the god given right for extra caffeine, even if he probably would regret it later. Charlene, the barista, took his order and gave him a discount. For his face or charm, he wasn’t really sure. Maybe it was just something that people did from time to time when they liked his dad and saw fit to extend the police force discount to the sheriff’s kid. Whatever, he’d take it. The extra pennies would go toward gas or something. 

Stiles took his cardboard cup and lifted it to his face, inhaling the scent that was steaming out of the cover. Ah, glorious coffee. He ignored any glances from people as he made his way out of the shop. He expected that people were nosy and wanted to know what was up with him, given the usual drama he found himself somehow a part of. What he didn’t expect to happen on his day of meandering was a group of four people with a hand-held camera ambushing him just as he was stepping onto the sidewalk. 

He jumped backwards when he looked up, his coffee escaping his flailing hand and some of it hitting the front of his favorite hoodie. Wow, it was fucking scalding. Stiles did not, he definitely did not let out a whelp before glaring at the group of people, most of who he recognized from the Ghostfacers videos. What the hell? Was he really getting confronted about his web videos? Because, really, he only had two up, what was the big deal? They weren’t even that good. Very amateur-ish and definitely half-assed. If Stiles had put any really amount of effort into them, well then maybe they’d be a little bit better. Not that he was any sort of expert or anything. He definitely was not claiming that.Sure he watched a shit ton of YouTube, but, really, who didn’t? It was an awesome site to waste time on and all those videos of cats? Seriously awesome. But... why did his little videos warrant getting confronted on the street? 

“You guys definitely owe me another coffee for jumping out on me,” Stiles said indignantly before his eyebrows knit on his forehead. How the hell had they found him? He had set the IP rerouters... he always had his face partially covered. It wasn’t like he had said his name or Beacon Hills at any point in his videos-- he was pretty sure about all of that. “What do you want? And, seriously, recording a minor without his or his parent’s consent? You should probably shut that thing off.” 

The slightly pudgy guy with glasses who was holding the camera hit the record button and angled the camera away from his face, turning toward the other two men beside him. “He’s probably right guys. I mean, we can’t really post it if he’s going to get the law involved.” 

The shorter man with black hair, Harry, Stiles was pretty sure that was his name, made a gesture with his hand, eyes still locked on Stiles. “Fine. We can do this the hard way or the easy way, I’ll have you know I’m highly skilled in krav magra, so consider your choice wisely! But! First and foremost our videos are not a joke! We put a whole lot of work into them and we don’t appreciate your comments!” The Asian woman who was standing just behind him put a hand on his arm, making a shushing noise. He drew in a breath, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at Stiles once again. “Don’t be a facer hater.” 

“Ooookay,” Stiles shrugged, non-plussed about his outburst. He unzipped his hoodie, taking it off so the coffee didn’t soak through and ruin his white t-shirt that was underneath. It was his third favorite [shirt](http://www.redbubble.com/people/loveaj/works/6431190-make-love-not-horcruxes-now-available-in-white?body_color=white&p=t-shirt&print_location=front&style=mens) and presoaking was a pain in the ass. “I’m assuming there’s a secondly coming up? But what I’d like to know is how the hell you found me? And, as a disclaimer, you probably should just high tail it out of here, if you know what’s good for you.”

  
The taller man on the other side of Harry, Ed (yep that was his name) crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow over the black frame of his glasses almost comically. It made Stiles wonder if they constantly tried to mimic things from movies in a very melodramatic sort of way. They had to. No one acted this ridiculous on purpose without any inspiration to set off from. Yeah, no. It _had_ to be intentional.“Is that a threat?” 

“No, a warning.” A voice said from what felt like just behind Stiles, making his heart beat faster and his stomach plummet. He was really not ready to see Derek after yesterday. He was hoping to avoid this for as long as humanly possible. Hopefully a week if he was lucky and just go on pretending that he hadn’t made a jackass out of himself. 

Stiles wrung his sweatshirt in his hand and half-turned toward Derek. Of course he always turned up when Stiles least expected it. Why was he even here? The Alpha had a plastic bag in his left hand that didn’t really seem to have much in it. So... early morning errands for the neighborhood Alpha? So, that just meant that he was in the area and what? Heard the little commotion from across the street and figured that Stiles needed assistance? Screw that. He could handle these clowns. It wasn’t like it actually had anything to do with the pack. Well, except for the fact that he posted on the Internet on the true life facts of werewolves. But, Derek really didn’t need to know that. It was definitely not something th at really needed to be said. It was something that was all about Stiles even if it was because of his involvement in the whole supernatural sphere of things. 

“Thanks, Der, I can handle this,” Stiles’ eyes lingered on the wolf for a brief moment, his tongue unconsciously moistening his lips before he turned back to the Ghostfacers. “Sorry for trashing your videos, it was all in good fun. Really, it’s just a few videos. It’s not like any of it’s, you know, real or anything.” 

Harry stepped forward, placing his hands on his hips. “Ghosts are real! Werewolves are real! You want us to believe that you don’t think any of that exists? You posted about Sirens! How do you know about Sirens? I mean, are they really like what you said? Cause... wow.” He shook his head, setting his jaw and inclining his head as if trying to seem more intimidating than he really was. Especially since he was a good three or four inches shorter than Stiles. “It doesn’t matter. Stop trashing us. We have a legitimate following and you... are... a... a hack.” Harry accentuated each word by jabbing his index finger on Stiles’ chest. 

Stiles rolled his eyes about to come back at him with a quip or even more BS about how he was clearly off his rocker for believing any of it when he heard a low rumbling growl. Derek moved quickly, grabbing Harry’s wrist before shoving him backwards and away from Stiles. Needless to say, Stiles’ jaw dropped chancing a look at Derek’s face and noting the red eyes before he grabbed the werewolf’s arm. “Derek, stop. He didn’t... just stop. We’re in public for fuck’s sake.” 

Derek ducked his head, closing his eyes as he took in a steadying breath before nodding twice. 

The Ghostfacers were staring at them with shock before they turned around and scrambled down the street. Stiles only caught some of what they were saying before they got too far and turned off the main road. It was something about ‘red eyes’ and ‘demons’ but he wasn’t really sure what they thought they saw. Stiles had made sure not to mention the different colored eyes and werewolves. He didn’t give out all of the secrets about werewolves, just enough to be credible and hopefully helpful. 

“What was that?” Derek asked turning his head towards Stiles as his impossible eyes bored into his. It was almost painful to look at the Alpha right now, making Stiles’ mouth dry and his heart speed up yet again. What was worse about all of this was that he couldn’t hide any of it from Derek. He couldn’t pretend that he was worked up because of the encounter, because those guys were nowhere near being a threat. Hell, they were straight up laughable compared to what they had gone through in the past couple of months, let alone the last year and a half. Though, if they actually were right about ghosts... how cool would that be? Stiles couldn’t help but wonder if there were any in Beacon Hills and, if so, why hadn’t he heard about them sooner? Granted, there had been a whole family of werewolves in the town when he was growing up and it wasn’t like he had heard of them either. 

“Hm?” Stiles snapped himself out of his thoughts and rubbed the back of neck as he glanced away from Derek and down the street where the Ghostfacers had gone. “Nothing. Just some idiots from an online thing. Nothing I couldn’t handle though. No real supernatural threat, but thanks. Stiles Stilinski can handle a few random humans with a camera.” 

Derek let out a frustrated breath of air, “Stiles.” Then he just stared at him for a long moment, as if expecting that just by saying his name it was enough to get more information out of the teenager. But, no. Nope, this time he was not budging. Maybe it was stupid wounded pride from last night, he wasn’t really sure. In lieu of answering, Stiles just arched his eyebrows as if he were questioning what the werewolf was asking to be informed of. Two could totally play at this game. “They mentioned the Siren. That was just last night. Who were those people?” 

“Doesn’t matter. Like I said people from the Internet, you know, the world wide web where people are allowed to post stupid and ridiculous things like memes and blogs that make little to no sense. Fangirls and boys can go crazy with their feels and people can edit Wiki pages to say that a certain celebrity is married to them. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Stiles paused, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as he gauged Derek’s expression. All he got for his rambling was a narrowing of the eyes and the werewolf crossing his arms about his chest. Tell tale signs that he wasn’t going to go anywhere until he got the information that he wanted. “Fine, fine. They’re the Ghostfacers, okay? Happy? You can look them up if you have an Internet connection over at the warehouse or whatever. There’s no other explanation I can give you that would make sense. That’s pretty much it.” 

Derek’s eyebrows worked for a minute, drawing together on his forehead as he worked through the information. Stiles couldn’t see him actually looking them up, but maybe he would at some point in the future. Which, of course, would lead to his videos. Which, whatever. Stiles could do what he wanted in his free time so long as he wasn’t putting himself or the pack in danger, it should be fine. It wasn’t like he was drawing attention to himself. Well, okay, so the group of so-called ghost hunters found him but it wasn’t like anyone else would really do the same. He figured that anything that went bump in the night wasn’t really interested in some kid shooting off his mouth about what he ‘thought’ he knew about certain supernatural creatures. Plus, if it seemed like no one was really bothering the Ghostfacers especially after they had started veering off of just general ghost territory and onto werewolves, why would he be a target? It didn’t make sense. 

“Okay.” The Alpha uncrossed his arms and held out the plastic back towards Stiles, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“What?” Stiles asked, eyebrows high on his forehead looking completely incredulous and totally confused. “Oh, you want me to take the bag? You should use your words like a big boy. And, what am I? Your bag boy?” Which of course that would be his role in the pack. Researcher and pack mule, it was a two-for-one special. If you didn’t have supernatural aspects, well, then you got the duller jobs. “I know I’m not all grr during the full moon but that doesn’t make me the lowest member of the pack.” 

Derek narrowed his eyes, “Shut up and take the damn bag Stiles.” 

Rolling his eyes Stiles grabbed the bag, “Happy? I have the damn bag. But I’m not following you all the way back just to be your mule, I have things to do today. Step one was pretty much a failure, but I figured after one strike out I’d still keep on keepin’ on, go out swinging, you know?” 

“I don’t want you to--” Derek shook his head, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he looked to the side and away from Stiles. “It’s for you.” After a beat of silence and the curiosity to find out just what the hell was in the bag made his hands itch with the need to figure out just what the hell Derek got for him. Specifically. For. Him. But, before he was able to even debate looking in the bag, the werewolf spoke. “Where did you park?” 

Stiles blinked rapidly a few times before shaking his head, “Uh, in the drive way, at my house. I walked here. Thought the fresh air would do me some good. Helps with working out some things in your head, ya’know?” Why did he say that out loud? Derek wasn’t stupid, he was going to put two and two together and know that Stiles was referencing last night, that he was still thinking about it. Great. Except that Stiles couldn’t stop himself, putting his foot in his mouth was something he did very well. It was like a special skill. “There’s nothing better than a good walk to get you through something that keeps turning over and over in your head. It makes it easy to work through your issues when all you really have to concentrate is moving one foot right after the other.” 

“I’ll give you a ride, then.” The way the Alpha said it meant arguing would probably be futile, so for once, Stiles didn’t bother. He was too damn tired to deal with it right now. 

They walked to the Camaro in silence, Stiles only a step behind Derek as they went. He absolutely, positively did not torture himself by taking in the wide expanse of shoulders, the lean line of his back that showed through the grey Henley and the perfect curve of ass. Nope. He was not that sort of masochist. He really, really wasn’t. Well, in the way that he totally was. Stiles may need to go into therapy for this. Always fixating on people that would never want him back, on people that were so far out of his league that they were in a completely different fucking solar system. 

He slid into the passenger seat and fixed his gaze to keep peering out the window, feeling the weight of whatever was in the bag on his lap. But, he didn’t want to give Derek the satisfaction of knowing what he thought about whatever the hell it was. 

“About last night...” Derek started, Stiles missed the few furtive glances that were shot his way, the way Derek’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel just a hair too tight, but not tight enough that his supernatural strength would break it. 

Stiles drew in a shaky breath, willing his heartbeat not to betray him, hoping that somehow his body wouldn’t betray him and that for just once he would be able to lie to him. “It was nothing. Thank you, though. For, uh, seeing to my injuries. Seriously, I appreciate it.” He pursed his lips together, making sure he didn’t go further than that, that he didn’t mention the almost kiss, that he didn’t mention the fact that Derek had been just being nice and he had misread it completely. 

“Right.” 

“I feel a little better, I mean, the little, uh, massage helped and I think the walk today did too. I was going to see if Deaton had anything that might help but I guess concealer will work just the same. Maybe I can see if Lydia or Allison will give me a quick lesson on it before my dad gets home.” Stiles spared a glance in Derek’s direction, barely catching the older man looking away from him and trying to seem like he had been doing it the entire time. Stiles didn’t dare think about what it might or could mean, he was totally done with thinking about that now. Unless it was explicitly said otherwise, he was just going to take whatever happened with Derek at face value. Well, at least where his own feelings were concerned. “I think it’ll be a good bonding experience for the human members of the pack.” 

As they pulled in front of his house Derek reached out to still Stiles’ hand on the seat belt eject button. Stiles’ breath absolutely did not catch in his chest at feeling the fingers over his and his heart definitely did not pick up at the contact. No matter what anyone said to the contrary, that did not happen. “You need to be more careful. I’m not always going to be around to save you.” 

“Yeah, because you are always saving me. Seriously, dude?" Stiles scoffed, turning in his seat to full on face the Alpha. He knew that Derek’s face didn’t always play up his emotions but Stiles still wanted to see if there was even the slightest bit of emotion flickering across his features. Stiles thought he got to read the man, able to tell what he meant with certain arches of his eyebrows. Sure, it sounded pretty stupid, but the dude had the most expressive eyebrows that Stiles had ever seen in his entire life. “Pretty sure last night I kicked ass when neither one of you werewolves stepped in to save the day. And, hell, even when freaking Gerard... No one saved me. I’m chock full of times when no one saved me. Of times when I had to think fast or just looked for an opening. I know I’m not as freaking strong or whatever, I have always worked with what I had at my disposal. I am not a fucking damsel in distress and as much as everyone thinks its the opposite, I’m not a magnet for disaster, okay? I don’t need you guys to keep trying to treat me as damaged goods when it’s what I work with, okay? Just... Just stop, okay?” 

He could feel the slight tremor in his limbs from the surge of adrenaline. Stiles was also hyper aware of the way his chest was heaving from being worked up (possibly unnecessarily) by what Derek had said and implied. It wasn’t like was trying to be in danger. He didn’t actively go looking for things that might be insane and interesting-- he knew where that led them last time. Every single time he had been in danger over the past couple of months was because of the werewolves in his life. It wasn’t something he had to look for anymore, it was just there. It happened. And if it happened to those he cared about, namely Scott in the beginning, well... he felt like he had no other choice than to help out. Scott was, for all intent and purposes apart from biologically speaking, his brother. Stiles wouldn’t let him go through any of this by himself. Plus, it wasn’t like Scott got bit after sneaking out to look for the dead body in the woods. 

“I’m going now, okay? You can set yourself at ease knowing that your research minion will probably pass the hell out in his own house due to exhaustion in the next hour or so, making it utterly impossible for him to get into some crazily insane amount of trouble.” Stiles opened the passenger side door, letting out a huff of air and trying to calm himself down even a little bit. It really was easier said than done. “Okay, that sound pretty copacetic? It’s not like I have magnets in my pockets for danger or anything. So consider your good deed of the day done, you’re off the hook to go brood or do push ups or whatever the hell else you do on your down time.” 

Stiles yanked is seat belt off and all but bolted from the car, stalking up his walk way until he was on the porch. He whirled around to see Derek was staring at him. The teenager let out another huff of air and waved before making a shoo-ing motion. The Alpha didn’t wait more than a second before driving off, apparently content in the fact that Stiles was at home and he had done his duty. 

Chewing on his lip, Stiles lifted the bag that Derek gave him and peered inside. There was a bottle of ibuprofen, packet of an oatmeal bath powder, more muscle cream, a bag of Take 5 candy bars and a bottle of strawberry syrup. He blinked a couple of times before lifting his head to glance in the direction of where the Camaro had gone. Had... had Derek basically bought him a get better Stiles kit? It was so thoughtful and... what? What the hell was going on? This was possibly more confusing than the non-kiss... or was it more confusing _because_ of the non-kiss? 

Stiles shook his head and turned to go into his house, but was startled into the state of flailing. Why was this a thing today? There was a man, maybe about mid-thirties (possibly? Stiles wasn’t great with guessing people’s ages, it seemed rude to do so anyway) in a suit and trench coat. Who wore a freaking trenchcoat anymore unless they were creepy flashers in NYC? Before Stiles could say anything, the man lifted his hand and pressed a finger to his forehead and the world went black. 

He was never going to hear the end of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't terribly happy with this update. It's been finished since Sunday and I keep editing and rewriting. Basically my brain is just mush. So, you have an update! it's not beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Also, I have been discussing this with a couple people... this may turn into a bigger cross-over than I originally intended. Multi-fandom crossover of doom? Yeeep. We'll see how it goes. I have ideas. Many of them. Some of them good, some of them terrible. ;)
> 
> Comments, kudos... always appreciated!! <3 Seriously, guys. Thank you for reading. I love you all. 
> 
> Also... CAS! This means Dean and pie in the next update. Em...I mean Sam too. Totally.


	4. Cross-roads demons, hunters and angels, oh my!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles comes to after blacking out and has a talk with the Winchesters and Castiel.
> 
> (Really extensive summary here guys).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, marshmellows (snagging this from the Veronica Mars movie updates because I'm so happy that's going to be a thing!!!)
> 
> I'm really sorry that this update took a while. I was reading (fanfiction since, whoops this fandom is really distracting), updating stuff for For Your Entertainment, and was also having a little trouble with this fic. Mostly because I really was trying to make sure that the Winchesters still sounded like them. Because I hate when they are out of character.
> 
> Really, _really_ hoping I pulled it off. Oh, and I was also doing RL stuff so, I think that's always a good thing to get out at some point, am I right? Sure.
> 
> This update isn't as long as the other updates, but that happens. :) Enjoy!
> 
> Oh, and as always, this isn't beta'd so! Sorry for any mistakes!

Things were just not going well for Stiles, not that that was anything really new. And didn’t that just make this whole situation the cherry on top of the sundae that was his life? First there was the werewolf ordeal, the hunters, then the siren... And, now? Well, he wasn’t entirely sure _exactly_ what guy was.That wasn’t exactly the biggest issue right now. Whatever the guy was, it was still weird. How was that an effective power or ability? What the hell kind of... whatever could turn someone narcoleptic just by touch? When he got home, he was totally going to use his Google fu and try figure out what he could be. Of course, like some of the other supernatural creatures he encountered, that guy didn’t seem very threatening. Which probably should have set off his first warning bell. That was unfortunate because Stiles knew that he was going to wind up really paranoid because of how his life was. Why couldn’t everyone come with a neon sign above their head that indicated if they were evil and had some sort of hidden agenda? It certainly would have saved them some trouble.

Internal monologues aside, Stiles slowly woke up, managing to keep his eyes shut. He made sure he kept completely still as his ears honed in on the sounds of a hushed conversation that parted the silence. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself until he could actually get together a plan of attack. Even if that was going to be kind of difficult considering, 1) He had no idea where he was, literally he could be anywhere, 2) He had absolutely no idea who or what he was dealing with. 

Those were pretty much the top two things he had to come to terms with. Then again, Stiles still needed to fully wake up and get his wits about him. Maybe if he just waited it out... maybe he could come up with something; _anything_. Usually, when he was kidnapped in previous and fondly looked back upon (well, more like repressed entirely), he didn’t come to laying down, there were usually a blur of fists and the whole torture thing that woke him up. What the hell was different this time? Who took him?

“Seriously, what the hell Cas?” A gravelly voice came out from far to his left, there was a rustle of movement and the sound of something glass, probably a bottle, being all but slammed down onto another surface. “He’s just a goddamned kid and you just used your angel mojo to bring him here?”

“It was the fastest way to get him here, Dean.”

There was a frustrated huff of air, “Dean.” Then there was a moment of silence, Stiles had to fight a severe amount of curiosity to see what the hell was going on. And, seriously, people should never mock his self-control. Like, ever. Hearing what they were saying without any way to further read into the situation, well, that was like only listening to the audiotrack to a movie; what was the freaking point? Even if he were watching a movie with the sound off, at least he could make up the lines to go along. It definitely not the same at all in reverse.

“What? You’re siding with him now? Because that’s not usually how this goes Sammy.” There was a steel edge to the guy, Dean’s, voice but it softened the smallest bit when he called the third man by his name. “Research usually works a helluva lot better instead of going into something face first and freaking blind! Going and straight up abducting some kid because the Ghostfacers call about red eyes? Seriously, dude? Seriously?”

“We’re not going in blind, Dean. They said red eyes, which means cross-roads demon. Keeping the kid out of harms way was probably a good idea. You know how sketchy they can be. Claiming their souls before their time. He’s only, what? Sixteen? Seventeen? The kid doesn’t deserve to eat it just because of the deal he made not really realizing what it meant.” There was a pause where Stiles could hear the sharp intake of breath and the shift of fabric. “No one deserves that, Dean. Nobody.”

Wait... what? What in the freaking hell was a cross-roads demon? Of course, Stiles could guess but he didn’t like making blind assumptions. Facts were always his friend you know, you couldn’t really go wrong with cold, hard facts. And, okay, so Stiles had been trying to play it cool and wait it out until he found an opening or thought of a good way to play this out but things didn’t usually go according to plan. 

Stiles swiftly sat up in the bed, garnering the three men’s head to turn in his direction. The trench coat guy was standing ridiculously close to a man in a green coat, while the third man was sitting down in the chair by the table before a laptop. (At least it was good to know that it wasn’t just werewolves that had issues with personal space, though, of course Stiles’ mind just went with the fact that maybe those two guys were more than just friends; sexual tension anyone?) He had to admit that they were all unbelievably handsome. Which, what had he done wrong (or right?) in his life to have this many attractive people in his life. Maybe everything and everyone he was coming into contact with in his life was trying to give him a freaking complex. Life was seriously unfair.

“Okay,” He said looking around the room to access where he was before turning back towards his abductors. There was nothing really special about the hotel room: two beds, a nightstand with a telephone and a small round table near the window. “First things first, what even? Cross-roads demon?”

The man with the green coat glanced over to the man who was sitting down, as if silently asking him a question on how to play the situation before he rubbed the back of his neck and turned away from the guy wearing a trench coat. “Look, kid. Don’t freak out, we’re not going to hurt you or anything, let’s put that right on the damn table from the get-go. We’re trying to help.”

“Yeah, kidnaping an underage boy usually ends up with someone “helping” them. I’m always hearing about it on the news about how nice and considerate three men kidnaping a teenager are. Yep. Totally,” Stiles rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, hands dropping onto his lap after using them to make air quotes to emphasize his point. Why did this have to keep happening to him? And, seriously, what the hell was going on with these guys? Why did they think kidnaping him meant that they were helping him? Was it because they thought Derek was a demon? Demons were real? And, okay that’s not the weirdest thing that had happened in his life, but, still. What the freaking hell?

The man who was sitting down pushed his chair out and stood up, and walked over to the bed beside Stiles before sitting down. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fingers threading together before him. He had wide brown eyes that, for some reason, reminded him of Scott. He figured that this one was the one who played good cop. Trying to lull people people into a sense of security, making them want to open up to him. Stiles had seen this so many times in real life and in really bad cop dramas (did the world really need that many CSI shows?) that he couldn’t help letting out a little scoff of a laugh. 

“I’m Sam, that’s Cas and Dean. I know waking up this way isn’t really...uh, ideal, but we really aren’t the bad guys here.” Sam offered Stiles a toothless smile, his eyebrows moving in a high arch that seemed genuine enough. Though, that didn’t really mean anything. Gerard put on that whole grandfather, harmless persona so relatively well that he had a lot of them fooled even though he was an evil bastard. Stiles was wary at best. What was he saying about those neon signs? They would be really helpful and there was no way he would budge on this topic. Maybe one day, if he ever was in charge of, well, anything, he’d have people have signs pinned to their shirts. He wondered briefly if he asked the pack to do that if it would cause him bodily harm. It could be like that Buffy episode where no one could speak and instead they had the dry erase boards hung around their necks. At least, then if they changed their tune they had the ability to change what was written on it. Reform was a good thing. Though, he supposed they could go the other way as well. Eh.

“We’re here because those guys you met earlier, the, uh,” His lips quirked in a smile as he looked down at his hands, as if there was some memory that was flittering across his mind that was either an amusing or fond memory. He wanted to know that story, maybe. Another time depending on how all of this went down. “The Ghostfacers, they told us that when they ran into you--”

Stiles shook his head, letting out an indignant noise interrupting what Sam was about to say. “You mean when they tracked me down in the middle of the street, made me spill my coffee all over my favorite sweatshirt-- which, rude-- just to call me out for dissing them on the Internet?”

“Yeah, they’re a little sensitive about their work. We learned that the hard way when they were working on a case,” Sam must have realized that he said something he wasn’t supposed to when his eyes widened and he glanced over at the other two men in the room. Stiles followed his gaze, cutting his eyes over just in time to see Dean make a gesture with his left hand that Stiles interpreted as ‘Well, the cat’s out of the bag now.’

“Jesus, Sammy. Why don’t you tell him everything about us then? It’s not like it’s a freaking secret or anything,” The tanned man put his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief at the unintentional slip of information. Interesting. If they kept themselves semi-secret or something, maybe accidentally giving things away wasn’t something that happened often. “Might as well tell him all about Cas too.”

Stiles’ eyebrows knit, eyes focusing on the man with the bluest eyes he had ever seen as he stepped forward. “It’s okay Dean.” He turned his head towards Dean, adding a tilt to his head in the man’s direction that was just plain odd and kind of hard to read before turning his eyes to meet his own amber ones. “Stiles, I’m an angel of the Lord.”

“Uh... right. Are you guys just buckets of cray-cray or...?” Stiles pushed himself off of the bed and looked at each of them pointedly, studying their expressions as he came to the realization. “Ohmygod. You guys are for real. Angels? Seriously? That’s an actual thing?”

Stiles glanced between Sam and Dean, they looked normal enough. But, then again, so did Castiel and so did the entire pack. Granted, the biggest thing that they all had in common was the fact that they were all unbelievably attractive. Wait, had he already pointed that out already? Yep. There was that complex he was already afraid of developing rearing its ugly head. No, we’ll just go with it was just an observation that he could make twice in a short period of time. It wasn’t like the same thing happened when he met Derek, any time he looked at Lydia or when any of the pack had accepted the bite. Hell, he’d be lying if being confronted with Derek’s attractiveness sometimes made it hard to breath. Or, think. Function on an even basic level. “Wait, what are you guys?”

“Humans,” Dean was the one who answered him, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose. Clearly, he was not happy with this situation in the least, at least not the way that all of this was playing out. Stiles couldn’t really blame him. It seemed like this whole thing was half-cocked at best and it didn’t seem like any of them were really on the same page. They definitely weren’t where Dean wanted them to be.

“Oh,” Stiles let out an almost manic laugh as he shook his head, still processing the new information and tucking it away for later. “That’s good, I was beginning to think I was one of the only ones left. And, can I just throw it out there that I’ve had it up to here with all of the supernatural aspects? They just conveniently seem to pop out of the woodwork _just_ when I think I’m going to get a break.” Whoops, he probably shouldn’t have said that. Granted, if they were in league with the Ghostfacers, there was the possibility that they may have seen his videos. And, since they seemed to be keyed into the whole supernatural thing. So, yeah, sue him. Plus, with everything going on, that was seriously the least of his problems and it wasn’t like he spilled the beans on why he was involved with the supernatural or that he was a human part of the local pack of humans. 

He took two steps over to Cas, _the freaking angel_ , and let his eyes rake over him. “I thought that angels would at least have wings or, you know, glow or something.” As Stiles spoke, his hands kept gesturing with the words in his normal fashion. “And getting touched by an angel; I can’t believe I am actually saying that and not using it as a reference, knocks people out? Does that mean you can’t touch anyone? Or, is that just one of your powers? Why is that a power that an angel would have? Do you just go around knocking out teenagers? That sounds less like an angel but more like a pedophile. Just so you know.”

Cas tilted his head to the side, eyebrows drawing together confusion as he just continued to stare straight back at Stiles.

“He’s not a pedo-- That’s not the freaking point,” Dean’s gruff voice stilled the rest of them into silence. He picked up the open bottle of beer that had been resting on the table behind him and took a long pull. “The freaking point here is that you’re in a helluva lot of trouble with that cross-road demon the Ghostfacers saw you with.”

“Uh, he’s not a cross-road demon, which you still haven’t actually explained, by the way," Stiles gestured wildly above his head, not exactly grasping why the hell they kept saying that Derek was a cross-roads demon. “And, why exactly do you think he’s that?”

Sam pursed his lips together, slapping his hands down on his knees. For a second, he seemed to be trying to debate how exactly to phrase it whatever he was going to say. Stiles hoped that he was going to explain what exactly a cross-road demon meant, but of course his hope was in vain. Story of his life. “Did you see his eyes go red?”

Stiles stared at him for a moment, his pacing back and forth came to a halt as he was frozen on the spot. Fuck. So they thought that Derek was a demon because his eyes went red? It wasn’t like he could tell them that no, his eyes didn't go red because there were witnesses. H really couldn't just tell them that Derek was actually an alpha werewolf and not a demon. Stiles wouldn’t out the pack like that, even if it was to save them from whatever these guys were.

Dean took another pull of his beer, “Listen kid. This guy would tell you anything to get you to agree to the deal. To get you to agree to signing your freaking soul over to him in exchange for something you really wanted.” He placed the bottle back on the table as he wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand. “He didn’t, uh, you know, grant a wish or take care of something for you?”

Stiles scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, no. The day Derek does anything I actually want him to is the day that I die of shock. Things don’t really work like that between us. Usually there’s a lot of telling the other do do one thing while the other possibly does the complete opposite. It’s our pa--social dynamic.”

But, seriously? Who the hell were these guys? They said that they were humans, but, they knew about supernatural beings. So, that usually only meant two things. 1) They had friends or family that actually were the things that go bump in the night, or, 2) Were the people who hunted the things that went bump in the night. And, since they said that they thought that they were saving him by warning him and taking him away from a cross-roads demon... Well, Stiles had only one conclusion that he could make.

“Wait... are you guys hunters?” Did they know the Argents? That would mean that they should know that the Hale pack existed and at least that they had occupied the Beacon Hills territory prior to the fire. Shit. Double shit. More hunters who might not follow the code? Well, that was just freaking peachy. Sirens, demons, angels... what the hell was next? Stiles was pretty sure all he wanted to do was just curl up under the blankets in his own bed and ignore the world for the foreseeable future. With his luck, even if he put bars on the windows and bolted the doors, a certain alpha would still find a way to get into his house and bother him. That just would be his luck.

He watched carefully, glancing between the three men, ready to catch any flicker that would signify that they were trying to lie or conceal anything from him. Sam and Dean locked eyes and shrugged, Sam lifting one eyebrow in question and Dean just looking plain pissed the hell off.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, pulling out the chair and dropping down into it almost defeatedly. “We’re hunters. So, what you’re trying to tell us is that you know about hunters but not about cross-road demons? What gives kid? Clearly, you know more than what you’re saying.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. I have my secrets you have yours.” He crossed his arms about his chest, leveling a glare at the older man. Two could play at this game. “Derek isn’t a demon. I can’t tell you how I know that, but he’s not. And, yeah, I know, why should you guys trust me, right? If I’m in league with a demon I would probably try to lie and cover it up, but I have nothing to lose here. It’s not my secret to tell and, believe me, torture wouldn’t get it out of me either. I’ve already been down that road before.” The teenager let out a sigh and shook his head. “Back to the whole ‘why should you trust me’ thing? I’m just a innocent, underage kid you guys kidnapped on a whim. It’s not like I could get you in trouble or anything.”

“Listen, even if you don’t know me, you need to trust that there’s no demon’s running around Beacon Hills and that even if there are, Derek is _not_ one of them,” Stiles drew in a sharp breath through his nose. “Alright?”

“We can’t,” Sam started, pushing himself off of the other bed and walking over toward Stiles, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he frowned slightly. “We can’t just leave without knowing that everything is alright here. We need to make sure that you’re right and there’s nothing going down around here. We can’t just take your word.”

Great, so not only had his videos led the Ghostfacers to his hometown, he also inadvertently brought a few more hunters into the fold. Hooray for good decision making skills. Stiles _really_ knew how to screw things up lately. You’d think that at one point he’d just learn to quit when he was behind. But, nope. Stiles was really freaking stubborn like that.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, “Yeah and looking at the deaths that have been happening over the past couple of months, something’s clearly going on here. And even if he isn’t a demon, the douche-facers claim they saw his eyes change. So, there’s that.”

And, they were also thorough, that was just freaking peachy. Of course nothing would actually work out that way, why take the easy route when you could just go through hell? Sometimes Stiles missed when he was completely oblivious to all of this shit. Looking back on those days seemed like a wistful memory at times, not that he actually regretted anything like being a part of the pack.

“Fine,” Stiles threw his hands up in the air, wincing slightly as certain muscles ached still from his encounter with the siren. Great. So, what sort of choice did he have? These new hunters didn’t rough him up, hell, they sounded freaking concerned earlier about him. That might actually work to his advantage. Maybe they actually stuck to the code, hell, maybe they had a better and different code. Especially if they hunted other than just werewolves... Well, that or they were playing him to get closer to the pack and therefore on the in to kill nearly all of the people who he cared about. That wasn’t something that Stiles was really ready to risk.

He didn’t want to lose anyone, after... after his mom, he didn’t think he could really cope with losing anyone else. His mind ran over the pack, the humans and non-humans in his life that he considered family; and he knew that he would fight to the bitter end for them. Despite the issues he was having; the constant fear of being helpless, the insecurities, the urges he got to brain Derek or, hell, even Scott sometimes-- they’ve become family. They’re his pack, even if he isn’t a wolf. He knows that he’s a big part of the pack, an essential part is what he usually told himself when things got bad. All in all, he would always lay his life on the line for the safety of the pack, he had many a time before and he figured he would again. 

Stiles drew in a sharp breath through his nose, placing his hands on his hips as he mulled over the decision he was about to make. He weighed the pros and cons quickly before settling on it. It was the best option he could come up with, knowing that it was probably the better option and could give them the upper hand over the new hunters just swooping in unannounced. “I get him to meet with you guys. You can shoot the shit, see that he’s not a demon and if you want the real explanation for the deaths, it’ll come from us, alright? And, it has to be a peaceful talk. Talk only, no violence or the offer is completely off of the table." Stiles glances between the three men, hoping his expression was serious enough to not broke any sort of argument. “There’s pretty much one shot here for this.”

He notices Sam and Dean share a long glance before the taller hunter walked over to Stiles, taking his wallet out of his back pocket and pulling out a simple calling card. Stiles takes it with a wary look in his eyes, really hoping that this wasn’t going to wind up biting him or the pack in the ass. The card is plain and the paper is stock paper, making Stiles think that it was something that was just printed at a Kinkos or something. There were two numbers on it, very non-pluss and simple. Stiles figured it was pretty smart since they probably didn’t want ‘hunters extraordinaire’ printed among their names or any thing. It was actually nice to know that some people went for anonymity. 

“Call us with the day, time and place that you want it to happen, though,” Sam pursed his lips together, curving in a slight smile that might have been slightly goofy in his formative years but now was slightly endearing. Damnit. He couldn’t think of it as endearing when he knew nothing about them. They could be playing with him, using him as an in to the pack in Beacon Hills. Stiles would file it away for later, not trusting is gut to tell him about how he should or shouldn’t trust these guys. Facts helped out in the long run.

Stiles nodded sharply, running the two numbers in his head before tucking the card into his back pocket. It was weird, to know that these guys were just going to let him go that easily. Despite the small kidnapping, (which was _never_ an okay thing with him, just FYI to future bad guys), at least they actually seemed to be giving him a chance.They seemed that cared or had some sort of morals because he was just a human teenager, even with his ties to whatever they thought that Derek was. He could hope that they weren’t dicking him around, even if he didn’t fully believe it, even warily.

Castiel, the freaking angel, walked over to Stiles and lifted his left hand toward the teen’s forehead, causing him to jerk backwards clumsily. Stiles’ arms waved around for a moment, trying to distance himself from the guy. “No! Just... no! Last time you did that, you gave me an angel roofie and brought me here, uh uh.” he shook his head emphatically and crossed his arms about his chest, leveling a glare at Castiel. “I think I’ll take normal modes of transportation like a car, or, hell, even horseback; I’m going to avoid angel narcoleptic teleportation until I know you guess have altruistic intentions at heart.”

The angel just tilted his head to the side and reached out his hand to touch Stiles’ forehead anyway, but even after he blinked a few times, he noticed that his surroundings didn’t change. Though there was less of an ache in his muscles and the skin on his cheekbone no longer felt tight. 

“Ohhhkay then,”He let his eyes slide around to each member of the room before he walked backwards a few steps toward the door. Call him paranoid, but he didn’t want them to do a sneak attack. He really didn’t put it past anyone to let him think he was a free agent only to psych him out in the end. Wen he felt the door knock against the small of his back. He slid his hand behind him, turning the handle as he nodded a goodbye. “Guess I’ll talk to you all soon.”

He awkwardly slid out the door and yanked it shut, leaning back on it when he drew in a deep, shaking breath trying to calm his nerves. Stiles could hear the men on the other side of the door arguing, not all of the words filtered through the door over the sound of blood rushing in his ears and the flood of relieve that surged through him. He thinks that the shorter man, Dean, was arguing about just letting him go. About their location being known to someone who was possibly in league with demons or whatever, and how Cas should have just poofed him back. Maybe, he wasn’t sure if it was a thing. 

Either way, he needed to get the hell out of dodge no matter what. He couldn’t risk them changing their minds because if this was his only chance, he was definitely not going to waste it. Stiles’ eyes scanned the area around the small, one level motel, before walking across the parking lot and to the small highway that stretched before him. His mind was going a million miles a second, and that was nothing compared to his heart that was all but threatening to escape from his chest.

The next question was, what next? He didn’t know where he was, though his phone could easily fix that. But, he had no car and no real way home aside from possibly getting a really expensive taxi (which he really, really, couldn't afford especially after the last repairs that he did on his beloved Jeep). Pulling out his phone he debated who he could call. His dad was definitely out, he would have far too many questions and he was already on thin ice with him and Stiles really didn’t want to have to deal with that look of disappointment on his face when he threw together a flimsy excuse. So, that route was out. Scott probably couldn’t borrow his mom’s car since she was at work and his driving privileges were off this week since he had actually told her what went on with the siren and his mom decided to punish him for making out with the creature and tried to kill his best friend. Seriously, some times Stiles really forgot how awesome Melissa was. He needed to get her a bouquet of flowers or an edible arrangement. He was mentally putting that on his to-do list for when he got the chance. There was really only one option and that made his stomach flutter nervously.

Really though, it was a bundle of nerves.

It was something that he should really think on that he was less nervous when being kidnaped and he would rather hitch a ride home then go with through with the obvious choice that was literally staring him in the face. His thumb scrolled to the name in his contacts and he huffed out an aggravated sigh. This really wasn’t a wait and think it all through situation. Stiles hit the call button and held the phone to his ear while the phone rang twice before his call was answered.

“Stiles,” The gruff voice on the other end sounded over the connection, Stiles felt a tightness in his chest at the sound of it that he was brushing off and hopefully ignoring it for the foreseeable future. He waited a full beat before answering, turning around to crane his neck to check to make sure that the hunters weren’t coming out of the hotel room and headed in his direction. 

“Look, I don’t really want to hear what you have to say on the matter because it’s been a really long day. Well, week really, month.... year. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. I want no lip from you about it okay?” His words were rushed, nearly running together as he spoke. He only paused to take in a breath, not actually pausing to draw in a sharp breath. “I need you to pick me up.”

There was a silence on the other end, where Stiles imagined that Derek’s eyebrows were either pinched together on his forehead as he was trying to bite back a response and not saying anything was the only way to ensure that he held back questions and didn’t start to yell at him. Stiles wondered if it was because he knew that he sounded panicked or if it was because of everything that had happened recently and felt like gibing him a break. Or, he wasn’t actually Derek and there was some sort of body snatchers or pod people thing going on. Any of those options were possible. Maybe even probable.

“Where?”

“Uh, not sure,” He looked down the road both ways, hoping that there’d be a sign or something. Even the name of the motel didn’t really give his location away or anything. He pulled a face, really regretting his decision to call the Alpha because he knows, he just freaking _knows_ the amount of shit he’s going to get for this afterwards. “The Glass Pirate Inn? Which, by the way, it’s decidedly not an actual inn of any sort. Just a step up from sketchy. I can pull up the GPS on my phone and see where it is exactly or you can do it on yours unless you’re feeling particularly allergic to technology today which I’m guessing the answer is no since then you wouldn’t have answered my call. So thanks for that, by the way. Also, did I mention it’d be really appreciated if you could get here as fast as humanly possible. Like, I’d bake you a cake or something and I’m really not even joking.”

Now that Stiles stopped talking he could hear faint typing and it really shouldn’t surprise him that the werewolf owned a laptop and had it readily available. Sometimes he completely forgets that Derek is an actual person and probably has some kind of life outside of the pack and supernatural mishaps. He really should consider the sides of Derek that he doesn’t even know. Though, the thought that there’s parts of the man that he doesn’t know makes his gut twist. He really didn’t know when his feelings had become this strong for the man, how he had gradually been seeping his way into Stiles’ heart without him noticing until it hit him like a ton of freaking bricks.

When he speaks, Derek’s voice seemed to be a little far away. “I can be there in ten minutes,” There was an exhale of frustrated breath as a few more keys were punched. “If I go ninety.”

Stiles let out a barking laugh that he seriously hoped didn’t border too much on hysterical, “Pedal to the medal my friend. Or, not. Since the police probably still keep an eye out for your car.” It was stupid, he shouldn’t be this keyed up after what happened. It wasn’t like the guys had done anything to him, like beat the crap out of him or make any kind of threat to him or to Derek. Maybe he was still exhausted, maybe it was just too much all at once (because angels, seriously???? He was still not over that); but, either way, he just wanted to get out of here as fast as possible before they changed their minds. “I can start walking in one direction and duck into a diner or something until you can get here. I guess it makes sense not to draw any more attention--”

“No, stay were you are. Ten minutes.” And, with that, Derek hung up. Which meant Stiles had ten minutes (more or less) to silently freak out and constantly look over his shoulder at the door of room number twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will have some Sterek moments and a pack meeting :)
> 
> BECAUSE I SAY SO. Really hoping that I get to update faster than this update came so, *crosses fingers*. Here's hoping!!
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcome as always!


	5. Damsel in distress... Except not at all. Since Stiles is a guy and Derek is not a prince and the Camaro isn't his valiant steed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek picks up Stiles from the motel and Stiles explains what happened.
> 
> Yes, again, awesome summary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a full update. But, then I got distracted by feels. I'm sure you can understand, mayhaps? I'm sorry it's not a full on update with plot and stuff but life has been a little busy lately. Plus, feelings got in the way of plot. I hope you all enjoy it. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always coolness and much appreciated!!!

It wasn’t until his ears picked up the all too familiar hum of the Camaro’s engine that Stiles could actively feel the tension in his shoulders lessen. Considerably. It’s not that any of this had been too much; because, seriously. The scope of what was too much for him to handle was thrown out the window when werewolves first made their appearance into his life. After that? Everything had pretty much been done at a learning curve.Still. Stiles expected that he might have a day or two breather between certain incidents. Okay, maybe not. There was a reason why Derek had the access to his password to locate him in case something like this happened. Stiles figured it was sort of a failsafe. Better entrust one of them rather than have them have to guess. Considering what Stiles’ password was, well, if it came down to that he would have been shit out of luck.

The thing that he hadn’t really dealt with, was the fact that he trusted this with Derek and not Scott. Not the entire pack, not his best friend... But, Derek. There was a whole mess of feelings and reasoning behind all of it that. There was a line. Compartmentalizing was a thing. It wasn’t a thing he did well. Hell, usually those things that he wanted to tuck away for later in the recesses of his mind, well it happened to randomly come up in his mind at inopportune moments. Like now. When he was happy to be picked up and whisked away from the new hunters, he of course thought about feeling in relation to Derek.

Stiles blatantly refused to glance behind him. Refused to give into the probably apt paranoia of someone watching him getting picked up and possibly jotting down the Alpha’s licence plate. Besides that fact, he was sure that Castiel could just teleport (or, whatever the hell angels called it) the hell down here to find out who Stiles had called to pick him up. Which, if they were playing that game, it might have been pretty stupid for him to call Derek of all people. His dad would be the flashiest (well, not really, Camaro); at least it would cement the fact of knowing someone in the law and maybe help them back off a little.

Or, you know, not at all. He didn't suppose the hunters worked strictly under the arm of the law. Who knows. They seemed to be decent apart from the kidnapping. Still, hunters weren’t really trustworthy on his list quite yet. Past experiences were complete and total grade-A bitches. 

Either way, Stiles bounced on his toes for a moment as Derek’s car smoothly came to a stop before him n the side of the road. He tried to play it cool, he refrained from scrambling into the car in efforts to not dig his grave any deeper. As calmly as he could manage, Stiles opened the door and slid himself into the passenger seat, fumbling slightly with the seat belt. “Thanks. Uh, Hey Derek. Long time no see.” Once the seat belt clicked into place, he gestured wildly with both hands in a gesture that could only be interpreted as ‘go’.

Luckily, whether it was due to his inclined heartbeat or just the entire situation, but Derek really didn’t need to be told twice. He barely waited ten seconds, however, before he was sparing the teenager a few sidelong glances as they went. Stiles let his head fall back against the headrest, eyes drifting shut for a brief moment of peace. 

Stiles drank in the silence for a couple of minutes, knowing that it wasn’t going to last. He at least hoped that it could wait until they were at least in the basic vicinity of Beacon Hills. He wasn’t sure if it was after only about thirty seconds of driving or a handful of minutes, he was still just trying to calm his nerves and piece together what the hell his life had come to before Derek spoke.

“Stiles,” The teenager’s eyes opened at that, cutting over to the driver of the car. Derek was a rigid line of tense muscles, his knuckles turning white from just how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. “What did you-- What happened?”

Scoffing, Stiles rolled his eyes, “Don’t think I didn’t catch that little slip there, buddy. Why do you automatically assume that _I_ did something?” He tried his best to look indignant, which was difficult to pull of since Derek wasn’t actually facing him so it was all a little bit on the side of pointless. “Honestly, is it too hard to ask for a little bit of trust every once in a while? Whatever. I was minding my own business, ready to just pass the hell out, you know, maybe go for that personal goal of a twenty-four hour coma because why the hell not? And, if anything, sourwolf, this was all your fault. Maybe not one hundred percent, but more like eighty-twenty... okay, seventy-thirty and that’s the absolute lowest I am going.” 

Stiles drew in a sharp breath through his mouth, tapping his fingers on his thigh as he turned his head to look out at the passing scenery. “Can’t we put some distance between us before I have to do the whole explaining thing? Like, even a little bit?”  
“Stiles,” Derek said quietly, his voice was calm and lost the sharp edge of warning that was usually there as an undercurrent. It was almost calming, drawing Stiles’ almost worried gaze from the passenger side mirror where he kept an eye on the road behind them, despite not knowing what the hunters drove. The Argent’s preferred SUVs, but, you never knew; and, really, not knowing was even worse. “Tell me what happened. Please.”

The way he spoke, hell, the ‘please' was really what had Stiles wanting to tell Derek everything. He just didn't know exactly where to start. Instead, he sighed, crossing his arms against his chest. Sometimes it was easier just to be defiant, even if he knew that he was kind of being a dick."I said distance, at least ten miles before I talk."

Derek growled before reaching over to flip down the visor and flicked open the mirror in front of Stiles. The vanity lights had him blinking for a moment as his eyes adjusted before he was full on gaping at his own reflection. All of the bruising, the slightly scabbed over scrape on his cheek... Everything. They were all gone. He tilted his head to the side, back and forth a couple of times before it dawned on him. It must have been when Castiel touched him. Yet another angel power; if he really was an angel. Maybe... Was it supposed to be like a trust thing? See, we're not the bad guys. Would the bad guys heal you?

Yeah. Probably, that was it. Just to gain trust. But, hey, Stiles was a freaking optimist at heart.

"Huh. So, there's that. I wonder," Stiles lifted up his shirt, the angry bruises on his ribs were completely gone. He had to assume his back was completely healed too. "Guess you're not gonna buy it if I tell you that cream that you got me really did the trick in an alarmingly fast amount I time?"

Derek turned towards him, eyes glowing red as his chest rumbled. 

And it wasn’t that the glowing alpha eyes scared him. It wasn’t like they made him submit and offer up information. Maybe it was that he was still in a little state of shock Then again, it wasn’t like Stiles had the most tactful person ever. Sometimes, or rather, most of the time, his brain to mouth filter wasn’t intact. "They thought you were a cross-roads demon."

The car swerved and Derek pulled them over to the shoulder of the road. He put the car into park before twisting in his seat to face Stiles. His eyes were back to their normal grey-green, searching Stiles face as his own eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Earlier," Stiles drew in a breath, trying to seem calm even when his heart was jack-hammering in his chest. He already knew that Derek was going to ask him to explain further, so he just figured it would be easier if he just offered up the information instead of dragging it out. Especially where Derek stopped and was giving him his undivided attention. "When you scared those guys off with your powerful alpha-care stare, those guys called some, uh, hunters they knew. But," Stiles waved his hands around wildly between them, trying to ward off the snarl coming from the older man. "I don't think they know shit about werewolves because they thought your eyes went red because you're a demon. So... Yay?"

"Why did they take you? If they," a muscle worked in Derek's jaw as he turned his head to stare out at the road they were meant to be driving down. "If they thought I was a demon, why didn't they go after me?"

Shrugging, he rubbed the back of his neck. "They thought that you, well, the hypothetical demon you was trying to take advantage of a kid who would sell his soul if you like granted a wish for me? No offense, I'd rather a genie for that. So, uh... Yeah. I guess they were trying to save me?"

"What about..." Derek lifted a hand to ghost over Stiles cheek, fingers caressing his skin in a barely there touch that honestly made it hard to breathe.

Stiles swallowed, trying to buy some time for his brain to start working again. "Oh, uh, one of them, and this is going to sound crazy and maybe they were just screwing around with me, but one of them claims to be an angel. That's how they got me to the motel and I guess fix me up too. Some angel powers? I don't even... Makes sense if he's an angel and there's demons? Is that even possible?"

He was resisting leaning into the touch, to feel more of Derek's skin against his own, to feel the warmth. And, just like that, he was back to the other day, wanting to feel the Alpha’s hands over his bare skin. Though, he really didn’t have to really test is resolve because after a moment Derek lowered his hand. “What did you tell them?”

"Nothing. Well, the werewolf thing is still in the bag so there's that.” Stiles closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to pull himself together. The small bit of contact coupled with the intense stare coming from Derek had him on edge and close to forgetting the details that he really needed to relay to the werewolf. “They did their research or whatever and they know about the murders and everything so they're not gonna back off and just take my word that its not you murdering people. And, well, sorry if this wasn’t the best idea ever but I was short on options. But! I said we would set up a meeting. Maybe if we can convince them that we neutralized the threats and, hello, we're fighting on the same side. And then they can get out of our hair. Do you think we should see if Allison's ever heard of them? Maybe she can ask Chris... I'm so not dealing with that family, Scott can be on ask the honorable hunter duty."

Stiles didn’t have a lot of issues with Allison, but due to recent events, he was a bit wary of her. What she did was moderately understandable. Her mother just died and she was going through some things but Stiles wasn’t sure that didn’t know about Boyd and Erica in the basement, let alone him being down there. Really, Stiles was taking an active stand of avoidance with that whole thing. Granted, it was hard given the whole Scott side of the equation. Not that that was the point right now, Stiles shook his head and leaned it back against the headrest, eyes finally meeting Derek’s once more.

"We could have a pack meeting maybe? I want to google the guys... Except... Crap. I didn't get their last names. Just a number to call to arrange the meeting..." Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face before glancing back at Derek. "What do you think? Not that you're always one to wax on about something but usually you're cool expressing some kind of general opinion about this sort of thing."

Derek let out a huff of breath through his nose, "I really hate hunters."

Stiles let out a bark of laughter, really knowing where the man was coming from and being there with him one thousand percent. "Tell me about it. At least they put a broken stiles Stilinski back together again."

There was a beat of silence, Derek's hand covering Stiles' own as it rested on his thigh. The contact alone shocked him, even with the near touch of less than a minute ago. Stiles glanced down at their hands for a second before looking back at the werewolf's face. "You were never broken, Stiles."

"Uh, right." Stiles said dumbly, eyes boring into Derek's, feeling his cheeks flush at the comment. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but it seemed less berating and more... More like a compliment. He didn't know how to tell him that it sometimes felt like it, like he was broken. He couldn’t find the words to tell the man that there were nights where he woke up after a nightmare drenched in a cold sweat, heart racing. How after those nightmares, he tried to will his brain to cease with the images of severed limbs, the taste of copper in his mouth and snapping fangs sinking into the meat of his neck. Stiles didn't know how to express to Derek, of all people, who had been through so much, (too much, really, if he was completely honest) that he sometimes wanted someone to try to take that away. That he needed someone to slip into all of the cracks and empty spaces in his being and make him feel whole again, whole in a way he hasn't felt since he was eleven years old.

Most of all, he didn't know how to tell the Alpha that more than anything, he desperately wanted that person to be Derek.

Stiles cleared his throat, "Thanks. But, you know what I meant. So... Uh, pack meeting or are you just really attached to this particular side of the road in the middle of nowhere?"

The werewolf put the car into gear without another word, the Camaro started down the highway. Stiles let out a breath that he didn’t realize that he was holding, his body releasing the tension that he didn’t know was even there. He sighed, lifting his hand to run through his hair that was growing out longer than he let it in years. Because, really, with his life and everything that was going on, when was he supposed to schedule a haircut?

He turned his head towards the driver’s seat, eyes taking in the older man’s ridiculously perfect profile. It was crazy how Derek just jumped to help him at a moment’s notice. There was a time that the person who would do that was Scott, and he really wasn’t sure when that transferred to the Alpha. Life was really, really fucking weird sometimes.

"Thank you.” Stiles said, breaking the silence in a quiet and serious voice. He paused for a moment, biting into his lower lip as he continued to stare at Derek. “For coming to get me, I mean."

"You're welcome Stiles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pack meeting next and then moar Winchester times!! :D


	6. Google-fu is a finely honed skill, it's like the force and it's totally strong with Stiles. Where the hell is his Obi Wan?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting not-rescued (though, let's face it, despite the fact that Derek didn't fight people off to bring Stiles back home safe and sound, that's so what happened), Stiles researches at Derek's apartment and Stiles pays a visit to the good ol' sheriff. 
> 
> (I know, I've said it a couple of times through different series of mine, I suck at summaries)

It didn’t take them long to arrive at Derek’s apartment, the ride after Stiles actually informed the man of what was going on. Derek even let Stiles fiddle with the radio, not commenting about his inability to stay on one station for very long. Stiles considered it a win every time that Derek didn’t growl or snap at him over things that he used to. The teenager figured he was slowly wearing him down, thawing the ice around his Alpha heart. It was a thing. Totally a thing.

Either way, when they pulled into the parking lot, Stiles felt continued to relax even further. This was familiar. It was like with each thing that separated him from the motel, from the Camaro to Derek to the apartment-- each thing helped ease his mind and grounded him in the reality that he was okay and this wasn’t just another elaborate trap. As he got out of the car, Stiles spared a glance up at the old fashioned building. To this day, he still wasn’t sure exactly when Derek started renting here, but it had to be sometime around or after the whole kanima thing. There was no way, well, at least he tried to convince himself this, that the man continued to live in the burnt out shell of his family house of the abandoned warehouse for the past year and a half. It was... just no. It was too freaking depressing to even consider. With this in mind, Stiles liked to think that with all of his free time, when he wasn’t turning misfit teenagers into werewolves or dealing with hunters and supernatural threats, Derek actually found the time to get himself a place that wouldn’t be condemned in the near future.

They walked down the hallway of the ground level in a silence that felt comfortable. Stiles was far too wrapped up in turning over all of the possibilities in his head and, for once, didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with them or other inane thoughts. When they entered the apartment, Stiles almost immediately toed out of his shoes and locked the door behind them, knowing that the werewolf didn’t like to track anything into his minimalist styled apartment. Without even asking for permission, he made a B-line to the living room and picked up the laptop from the coffee table where Derek left it less than a half hour ago. The Alpha hadn’t even closed the site that tracked Stiles’ location, having probably just left straight after he hung up. A smirk curved the teen’s lips as he saw how his it showed where he was now, safe and sound in Beacon Hills. He, quite obviously, already knew where he was, but it still made him feel good. All signs indicated that he was home free. But, still, he could die happy if he was never, ever kidnapped again-- even if it was by seemingly well-meaning hunters. 

After opening up the search engine, Stiles drummed his fingers on the coffee table. He wouldn’t really be able to rest until they had a firm grasp on what to do in this situation. And, that meant gaining more information on the hunters. But, how could he actually go about that? What was he going to research? Just key in ‘Sam and Dean hunters’? Maybe even Castiel?

Stiles let out a frustrated sigh scrubbing a hand over his face before pulling out the business card that Sam had given him. His gaze settled on the nine digits, trying to figure out exactly what he could do with what little information that he had. It barely took thirty seconds before the teenager let out an ‘Aha!’noise and his fingers began flying over the keys.

It was easy. Step one. Yellow pages. Of course, it was a long shot since not every number was listed, but at least the area code was from where the hunters bought the phones-- so that at least could maybe give them an idea of where they were from (or, at the very least, where they’d been). Though... if it was unlisted, did that mean that they worked under the radar? A different kind of hunter than the family sort that had an entire ammo auxiliary set up in the garage? While they weren’t out with the whole ‘we hunt werewolves for a living’ thing, they weren’t exactly 100% subtle about it. 

Reverse phone look up was a pretty standard thing, people did it all the time. And, it was really freaking easy. All someone had to do was type in the number and see if anything came up. True, he knew that he was probably grasping at straws, it was still worth a shot. Even if he came up with nothing, at least he tried it. He typed in the number and hit enter. Insert dramatic pause here. Surprise, surprise, it was unlisted. Though, he went back to the search engine and typed in the area code. Iowa. Okay, so that was just a small piece of information to tuck away for later.

Letting out a sigh, he nodded his head a few times, deciding just to say screw it. He was just going to type in whatever came to mind, any sort of information that he could recall from talking to the three men. Fooling around with Google was his thing, even if something seemed inconsequential sometimes yielded pretty interesting results. Granted, usually he had a bit more information on what he was researching; not much all the time, but... Still.

Eh... whatever.

The first thing he keys in is ‘Dean Sam Hunters’. **405,00 Hits**. Huh. Surprisingly, a decent number of sites come up. Nothing solid, most have to do with a book series called Supernatural. He clicks the wiki-link for it and snorts as he reads over the summary. Two brothers, hunters of all things supernatural and trying to find their father. He goes back to the main search and pulls open an email to send himself the link to download the whole series. Even if he was curious right now, he didn’t want Derek regretting him using his laptop.

Stiles perused a few more sites, coming across some disturbing fan fiction where the brothers were, uh, involved. He knows all about fan fiction, and he isn’t judging but... Brothers? Isn’t that like a lot bad touch? People are allowed to like whatever they want and you know, maybe the guys in the books have some weird chemistry that makes people overlook the whole, you know, related by blood thing. To each their own.

"So far, I'm not getting all that much, Sourwolf...” The teen called out, pausing for a second as he chewed on his lower lip, wracking his mind for anything else that the men had said that would help him gather more information on the hunters. They had to have said _something_ that would help him. Maybe he was just missing something... It would come to him eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later. Leaning back on the couch he stared up at the ceiling. “How long did Isaac and Scott say they'd be?"

“Deaton went out of town for the weekend, Scott and Isaac are covering for him,” The Alpha emerged from the kitchen, two glasses in hand. “They should be off by nine." Derek walked over to the couch, holding out the second glass toward Stiles without a word. It still felt strange sometimes. They spent so much time together lately, that they were settling into small patterns with each other. It wasn’t something that happened all at once. They just happened to be the people that were able to drop whatever they were doing at a moments notice. “Erica and Boyd went out for dinner and a movie; I told them not to rush.”

Stiles nodded in understanding, over the past few months, Derek had eased up on his pack. Even with the dangers that seemed to always pop up, he tried to at least give the teenagers time to be just what they were-- teenagers. It was nice, to see that Derek was adjusting, possibly changing his tactics of action or intimidating people into obeying him, and actually taking to what the role of being their Alpha. It was nice and Stiles could see the shift in the pack when it became more than just the bond of their pack and respect was filtering into the grand scheme of things.

He took the proffered glass and peers into it with a lopsided smirk curving his lips. "Fruit punch? Very after school special." Stiles shook his head before taking a sip, which, wait... totally not juice. Jerking back he glanced at Derek with a dubious look on his face. "Code red? Dude, you're my hero. Though, I seem to recall some brooding alpha giving me a two minute speech about how awful the stuff is for me and how I should be more careful about what I put into my system, nearly bordering on 'your body is a temple' crap."

Derek snorted, leaning back as he took a sip of his own water, "Isaac put it on the grocery list."

"Uh huh,” Stiles couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that spread across his mouth. Isaac wasn’t a big fan of soda, he really liked tea and juice; maybe the very occasional root beer if he was feeling adventurous. Stiles was the only one who drank this specific soda, or at least the only one who had complained profusely about Derek not having it on hand. “You're not fooling anyone. You're paying attention to my oh so awesome taste in junk food and stocking your apartment with it. You're playing for keeps."

Even saying the comment jokingly, Stiles loved that Derek paid attention to what he liked; even if it was in an Alpha providing for his pack mentality... it was nice. He also noticed the pack of mega stuffed Oreos and Cheetos in the cubbard last time he was over after having bitched and moaned for a half hour about being starving and how Derek didn’t have proper munchy food. Stiles may have even joked about being a growing boy and how he needed all the food he could get his hands on to.

They sat on the sofa in a companionable silence, Stiles was too caught up in his own head. Maybe he could rewatch the videos again... He thought it over as he took a few gulps of his soda. Was there any really good information to gleam from them? Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face before placing the glass down on the coffee table. They obviously had hunter connections...

Wait... Hadn't the Ghostfacers mentioned Winchesters, right? That was how they learned about the salt bullets for ghosts, right? Called them douche bags or something. Though, if they were such d-bags, then why did they call them? Or, was it because they clearly knew their shit? Maybe... maybe that's a thing. Stiles flailed for a moment and pulled open another tab, typing in 'Winchester' and 'hunter'. 

**10,400,00 Hits**. _Fuck_. Okay, obviously not the type of gun or knife. Stiles scrolled past two pages worth of red neck hunting sites. He was about to give up with an aggravated groan before he saw something on the fourth search page. It was a blog, nothing fancy but there was a whole two paragraph story about a warehouse being haunted and two men helping them out. There were a few blurry photos, but nothing was actually clear in it. 

Okay, close but no cigar. Going back to the search engine he added the hunters names into the mix. **191,000 Hits**. Jackpot. There were still the many sites devoted to hunting, but there were others. More blogs, more personal accounts of supernatural events and two men coming into town in an Impala and taking care of business. It wasn’t until he clicked through a page of photos on a group site. None of the pictures were great close ups, all of them seemed to be taken from inside cars, from windows and even behind bushes. Still, there were enough of them from various angles that Stiles was pretty damn sure and without an ounce of self doubt. Bingo. He freaking had them. From one of the group sites, (which had a pretty lame quote from The X-Files "The truth is out there..." as the header; could they pick anything that wasn't completely over done?) he found links to a whole slew of actual press articles on the Winchesters. Shit. They were actually apparently wanted by the FBI at some point, a huge investigation a couple of years back for murder before they were presumed dead. Stiles would have to look into the actual articles more in depth, probably tonight when he was busy not sleeping. Clicking on one link at random and pulled up the shots of the two men, “Shit, Derek, that’s them.”

The Alpha leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees as he angled slightly into Stiles’ personal space. Derek took in the photos on the screen, squinting as his gaze flitted over each image as Stiles scrolled through them all for him. “How...?”

Stiles let out a scoff, “C’mon dude, don’t make me reveal my secrets. It’ll ruin the mystery.” He turned his head to the side, winking exaggeratedly at the older man who, even after a moment longer, was still staring at him expectantly. Well then, it was probably too much to ask for Derek to just roll with the fact that Stiles was incredibly awesome and had a seriously kickass arsenal in his skill set. Rolling his eyes, the teenager lifted his left hand to rub the back of his neck. “The, uh, Ghostfacers, the dudes from outside the coffee shop? They mentioned in one of their videos, and I quote, ‘those Winchester douche bags’ and how they learned the salt bullet thing-- don’t ask-- from them. So, it was kind of a long shot but I figured, why the hell not.”

Derek nodded, glancing back to the computer for a brief moment. “Is there anything else beside pictures? At least we’ll all know what they look like, but it doesn’t exactly give us a lot to work off of.”

“Yeah, no, I mean, unless they have Facebook accounts we’re not going to really find any more than what’s on the Internet and public record...” Stiles sat back, letting his head drop back against the couch as he mulled this over. There were few options that made sense.

 **1)** See if the Winchesters had any kind of record. Which, wouldn’t be incredibly difficult, just, you know, _illegal_. All he had to do was to get into the Sheriff’s station and see if he could pull up anything in the database. It’s not like he wasn’t there all the time, but.. still. Even something would be better than nothing here. Maybe they’d get lucky and find out a few things about these guys. 

**2)** Go down to their neighborhood hunters and see if they had any clue as to who the hell the Winchesters were. They didn’t seem as gung-ho as Gerard so there was that. 

With a couple of hours to spare before the rest of the pack came Stiles decided option one was going to be the first route. Lifting his head, Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. 4:17. Nearly time for his dad to have dinner, so he would have an excuse to be in the station instead of just dropping by to say ‘Hi’ to his dad.

“Alright, so, I’m going to go bring my dad some dinner and maybe see if I can’t accidentally on purpose see if I can gather some information from the system,” Stiles flashed a toothless smile at Derek before standing up and patting his pocket for his keys before he remembered that it didn’t even matter if he had them or not, his Jeep was still in the driveway on the other side of town. Without a word, the Alpha tossed his keys at Stiles, causing a very manly startled yelp and a mildly embarrassing game of hot potato with the keys. It was cool, people did that all the time right? “Uh, you’re cool with me taking your car? I thought any one else driving your car was against the laws of nature or something like that. I don’t think I’ve even seen Isaac or Boyd drive your precious baby.”

Derek let out a huff of air through his nose, looking up at Stiles through his eyelashes, “Just don’t scratch the paint job so I won’t have to regret my decision.”

“Right, because I was actually planning on driving your car into a cement wall. Maybe the one by the warehouse you used to wolf out at, huh? Give it a full circle sort of feel to things.” Stiles placed his hands on his hips as he rolled his eyes. Though, even where people called his Jeep a POS, he loved it and would probably deck someone (if he was more of a fighter) if they did anything to harm her. Well, more than the usual werewolf-itude of it all. Come to think of it, the pack probably should pay for his next tune up or something. Maybe offer to pay to buff out the dents next time they threw something into his poor car. Because it wasn’t like his car ever did anything wrong to any of them so, _clearly_ it didn’t deserve the abuse it received so regularly. 

He started to make his way out of the apartment before he turned around, “Do you want me to pick up some dinner while I’m out? Maybe pizza or Chinese? Get the whole pack meeting thing going on strong and soften the blow of bad news about new hunters with the lure of MSG?”

“I’ll order Chinese, you just worry about getting back here in one piece,” Derek said pointedly. Stiles knew that it sounded like he was pissed that it always seemed to be him who was caught in the middle of things, but, he knew that wasn’t all of it. Beneath the anger and gruff, Derek actually cared about him. He had shown it several times, putting himself in harms way to protect him, getting angry when Stiles ran headfirst into something when he could get killed. 

“Can you order the--”

“General Tsao.”

“And a double order of the--”

“Crab Rangoons, I know,” Derek got up off of the couch, picking up their glasses before making his way back toward the kitchen. He paused and lifted an eyebrow at Stiles, lips curving in amusement. “We’ve ordered Chinese several times, I’m pretty sure I can remember everyone’s order. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

Nodding several times rapid fire, Stiles let out a laugh, “Right, of course. At least my tastes in food are consistent. You never know when it’s going to be one of those days when I’m going to throw you a curveball and ask you to whip me up a banana peanut butter and sardine shake.” He tried to keep his expression serious, but the thought of ruining that shake with sardines... he couldn’t help but allow his face to contort into a disgusted grimace. “I’ll be back in, like, an hour tops. Try not to miss me too much.”

 

Stiles whistled through his teeth as he pulled up to the station and parked the Camaro into the visitors spot. It was the one that was usually reserved for wives or husbands of the cops on the force, an exclusive right that was extended to Stiles once he got his license. It was weird, driving Derek’s car instead of his Jeep. He had been driving his car for so long that he forgot how other cars could be different. That they didn’t keen or rattle a certain way, telling him to let up on a certain gear or that he really should pull over and check the level of the oil due to that hole in the hose that was supposedly fixed last time he brought it in. Derek’s car drove like a dream. It drove so well that he felt like he was cheating on the jeep, that he would have to somehow save up for some new tires or something to make it up to her. After rolling up the windows, he turned the engine off and grabbed the brown paper bag from the passenger seat.

As Stiles made his way into the station on autopilot, waving at the few new cops and the ones that had survived by sheer luck of being off the night of the kanima attack, he let his mind wander. He knew that he could have accessed the remote site, but he wanted to make sure Derek’s IP address wasn’t linked to anything like this. Even if he was exonerated, Derek was still a person of interest. Even if he logged in at home, logging into his dad’s account while he was at work was possible worse then trying to do it when he was home. 

He stopped short in front of his office, noticing that his dad wasn’t alone. Two men in suits were standing in front of his desk, presumably flashing their credentials. Shit. Did that mean... Was the FBI finally taking interest in their town? That was probably worse than just hunters. That was a whole giant web of problems that would be harder to get around, harder to brush it off as animal attacks and missing people. Double shit.

Still, even if shit was hitting the metaphorical fan, he needed to pretend that everything was fine. It was normal. Right. He could do this. He was just some kid bringing his dad lunch before going out to do more kid things. It was summer, he was just being a good son. That was it. 

Stiles cleared his throat and knocked on the door frame. It earned him three glances in his direction which had him gaping in astonishment. The suits were none other than the two hunters, here... talking to his father. And, of course, Stiles didn’t think of the fact that maybe they could play dirty and drag his dad into all of this.

“Hey kid, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now,” The sheriff gestured meaningfully at the other men, but still managed to sound completely professional. 

“Right, I, uh, just came to bring you dinner. Didn’t want you to have to resort to a greasy burger since you’re busy doing that whole crime solving thing,” Stiles walked over to the desk and handed over the bag. “Grilled chicken salad, heavy on the salad light on the dressing. I even got Stella to throw in some of those banana peppers for you." 

He could see small wave of disappointment flash in his father’s expression before it was replaced by fondness. “Thanks, son.” The sheriff looked set the paper bag on the left side of his desk and let out a small sigh. “These are detectives Plant and Page.”

Stiles’ eyebrows arched toward his hairline and he bit back laughter, did that really work for them? Or was this just a special case that they didn’t seem to give a fuck about to give names from the members of Led Zeppelin? Instead of making a comment, he nodded at them, feigning ignorance. “Nice to meet you and welcome to Beacon Hills. What brings you to our small town? Sight seeing? Burning desire to learn more about our winning lacrosse team?”

“Stiles,” His dad said in a warning tone, the one that instantly made his son shut up and left no room for arguments.

“Alright, alright.” The teenager held his hands out in a gesture of surrender, “I have to go meet Scott anyway. I’m gonna be late tonight so don’t wait up, epic X-Box tournament. Try not to work to hard-- Oh, and say no if Rodriguez offers to get you a burger. I’ll know if you didn’t eat the salad.”

This of course earned the patented Stilinski eye-roll, “Have fun and be safe, kid.”

“Scouts honor, which of course would mean more if I had actually been a Boy Scout,” Stiles waggled his eyebrows at his father before heading out of the office. Which, holy shit. The hunters were really not giving him any time to collect himself. They must have left the motel only a little while after Derek picked him up. Well, unless Castiel angel-teleported them here... Which, now that he thought about it, where was that guy? Maybe he was doing his own investigating somewhere else in town?

Stiles completely abandoned his idea to see if there was anything on the Winchesters in the system, figuring it was probably best just to get back to Derek’s apartment before something else inexplicably went; which, obviously was how his life went these days. 

“Stiles,” He heard his name and he stilled, hand on the exit of the station. The voice was too close that he couldn’t just pretend that he didn’t hear it. Letting out a sigh he turned around crossing his arms about his chest to look up at the hunter. “Look, can I just,” Sam glanced behind him, flashing a smile at Rodriguez who just nodded back in response. “Talk to you outside for a minute?”

The teenager gesticulated above his head wildly before leading the way out of the station and down the pavement towards Derek’s car. If the hunters had been watching out the window the other day, they probably noticed which car came and picked him up off the side of the road. Which, great. All he needed now was for Sam to write down the license plate and instantly have a lead as to who Derek was. Freaking awesome. He loved his life.

Stiles turned around, placing his hands on his hips as he waited for the hunter to speak. He seemed to be working something out in his head, looking for the right words to come off reassuring. Right, like that was going to actually be a thing. Suspicious until proven otherwise, that was how he was rolling with this. 

“Look," He drew in a breath as he ran his hand through his long locks, seriously, if he was posing as an FBI agent, he could at least get his hair trimmed or something. Look a little bit more ‘by the book’ or something. “I know that this looks like we’re coming in all guns blazing here, but we’re not. I promise. I," Sam paused, looking back at the Sheriff's station where Dean still was presumably talking to Stiles' dad about the weird happenings in Beacon Hills. “ _We_ just want to make sure that whatever is going on in your town isn’t something that we have to take care of. It’s part of what we do. I’m sure that you think you know what you’re doing, and that it’s right, but, we can’t take that chance. If it looks like innocent people are getting hurt by whatever your friend is... Well, we can’t let him do that.”

“My friend’s aren’t murderers,” Well, except for when they kill things that were trying to kill them or defending themselves against geriatric hunters... Stiles actually figured out a way to keep his filter up for that one, not wanting to give away anything about how Beacon Hills had somehow become a hotbed for supernatural activity. “I’m not really into that whole rebelling act with kids from the wrong side of the tracks or trying to prove something due to my adolescent idiocy. Not really a thing here.” Which, really it wasn’t. It was always his curiosity that got him. Wanting something exciting to happen and chasing after anything that seemed like it was exciting. 

“Look," Stiles ran a hand through his hair, undoubtedly making it jut up awkwardly on top of his hair but he really couldn’t get himself to care all that much. “I get the whole hunters code thing, kudos if you’re actually sticking to it. But, lets look at the other side of the spectrum here, okay? Th--He’s not going to trust you guys either. You’re _hunters_ for fucks sake. What’s to stop you from trying to kill him as soon as you meet him? And, hey. Can’t you just get your winged friend to drop in and just see that there’s no demonic activity going on here and you can be on your way?”

Sam shook his head and let out a soft sigh, “Cas is looking into some leads, but...That’s not really how it works.” The taller man took a few steps closer to the teenager, pressing his lips together in a toothless smile that was probably meant to be reassuring, like he understood what Stiles was dealing with. And just like that, Stiles felt like he was on the end of a good cop routine. He wondered if the other hunter did as well as the bad cop... Images of Gerard‘s fist flying towards his face caused him to blink rapidly, focusing back on the present instead of the memories that were flooding to the surface of his mind. “Dean and I? This is what we do, okay? We’re not going to go anywhere until this is all figured out. So, just give us a call. Even if it’s not to set up a meeting, even if it’s just because you need to talk or feel the need to share some information, okay?”

The teenager nodded, letting out a huff of air from his nose before walking towards the car. He was completely giving up on this conversation until he could talk more with Derek and the pack before he said anything of importance. How the hell did he always wind up right in the middle of everything? Couldn’t he just see if they had records and bring his dad dinner in peace without _something_ happening? “Right, of course. Because you’re here to help.”

‘You know,” Sam took a few steps forward, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, the Alpha’s flashy car. “That’s a pretty fancy car, for the son of the sheriff.” 

Stiles hand hovered over the door handle to the driver’s side, as his eyes cutting over towards the hunter, “It’s a friends, but I’m sure you already figured that out. It’s not an Impala but it gets me from point A to point B.” He didn’t know if the hunters had kept an eye out for the car that picked him up from the motel, but considering the fact that they came to Beacon Hills... He had to assume that they were paying attention. “I can give you the make, model and license plate of my own car, or I guess you can just go ask my dad or have your brother ask about it. “

Sam’s eyebrows lifted in surprise before he schooled his face back to a more impassive expression. “Guess we’re not the only ones who were doing our research.”

The teen swung the Camaro’s keys around in his hand and shrugged, “Fair’s fair, dude.” If they were doing to snoop around his town, then they had to at least expect that he wasn’t going to go into this whole thing blind. Even if Stiles knew that it might be to his advantage that the could underestimate him, it always felt nice to surprise people and one up them at their own game. So, whatever. He knew who they were, that wasn’t really telling him just how kick ass he was and bragging about his skill set. 

The corners of the hunter’s lips curved upwards in a smile and shook his head, “See you around Stiles.”

After offering the man a salute, Stiles slid into the drivers seat, as he turned the engine on he noticed Sam typing something on his phone. Stiles really hoped that it wasn’t the license plate, but, honestly, that was probably the case. Which, great. It was just want he was hoping wouldn’t happen. So, the hunters would know exactly who Derek was. And the whole history of him being a murder suspect. And all about his family. Awesome. Nothing like having nearly everything in your life that was a personal tragedy out there for people to know; especially people who thought you were a murderous demon who took advantage of people and convinced them to sell their souls. Yep. Totally okay.

Maybe, knowing that they were doing a through research of the town and everything spoke in their favor. It wasn’t like they just came in and started attacking the pack; maybe they could be reasoned with... Maybe. Stiles wasn’t going to hold his breath, but sometimes people could surprise you. He wouldn’t readily admit it, but he was sort of hoping against hope that it would happen like that for once in his life. 

Either way. Maybe knowing what the hunters may come across as far as information, maybe it would make more sense to have the meeting with the hunters sooner rather than later; that way it stopped them from formulating the wrong ideas about what Derek was... Stiles really hoped they didn’t have wolfsbane or anything like that on hand.

Great. Stiles let out a groan as he pulled out of the station’s parking lot, not exactly looking forward to having to go So, he really wasn’t going to go back to Derek’s apartment with good or promising news. The alpha would probably growl at him again about his inability to stay out of trouble for even a handful of hours.

As Stiles rolled to a stop at a red light, he let his head fall forward and bang against the steering wheel. This was going to be a fun pack meeting. Yep, totally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said there would be a pack meeting, but this kind of got away with me. There are going to be some Winchester scenes without Stiles (just because I can). Pack meeting was pushed off until next chapter but I really just wanted to get an update up before I trekked across the country for SDCC.
> 
> Note: I have nothing against Wincest. I don't usually read it but whatever pairing you ship TOTALLY COOL. Just adding that as a comment where Stiles came across fanfiction.
> 
> Oh, and had I mentioned Erica was not dead? I guess I'm just ignoring season three completely since this started beforehand. Plus... *SOBS* ERICA.


	7. Hunters who tend to go on murderous rampages? Totally what they needed right now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes back to Derek's apartment and does more research on the Winchesters. Their dinner is interrupted by a phone call while they're waiting for the rest of the pack to come over. And, of course, it isn't necessarily good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I apoligize for the lack of an update since July. I've been quite busy with IRL stuff; work kicking my ass, and trying to be social. It happens, right? Still! Three months? That's crazy. So, I have this and a decent part of the next chapter started. Fingers crossed that overtime at my job is still a no go so I can finish that and not feel like a horrible person for denying anyone who is digging this story.
> 
> I did have some trouble with this chapter, hopefully it doesn't feel too OC, sometimes my own babbling mixes with Stiles and... Well, I hope it still sounds like him. We'll just say that any thing that seems off is because of stress and worrying about what in the actual hell is going on regarding the Winchesters. Kay? Cool.
> 
> Also, I know I mentioned in a previous chapter that Derek and Stiles got closer because they were looking for Erica and Boyd when they were missing, and I kind of gloss over it when it's mentioned that they're at the movies. I'm going to touch upon that later. Don't worry! Just an FYI in case anyone got confused over that.
> 
> Okay, I'll stop with the comments. Go forth and read! Comments and Kudos are always lovely.

Of course, as it was a common freaking trend nowadays, the pack meeting didn’t exactly happen the way he had imagined. Or, you know, happen at all. Though, one might think that it would have been a good thing, considering how awful he actually thought it was going to go. But... No. That was never really the case was it? Nothing actually was better than expected in his experience. There was just worse which usually let to ‘what the hell’ before edging into the realm of ‘we’re screwed’.

He really should figure out a way to just stop expecting _anything_. Full stop. Just cease the cogs and wheels of his imagination immediately. Because, if he could have ten bucks for each and every time that something didn’t go how he imagined or even “according to plan,” he seriously wouldn’t have to worry about gassing up the Jeep for at least a year.

Stiles hefted himself out of the Camaro which was parked in Derek’s usual spot outside of the apartment building. Biting his bottom lip, the teenager leaned against the driver’s side door. He let his mind wander, idylly wondering if Derek got it waxed often, considering the fact that it looked damn near perfect pretty much one hundred and twenty percent of the time. It wasn’t new that his mind ventured into different and random topics at any given moment. Though, in times like these, Stiles figured that it was less to do with his ADHD and more as an avoidance tactic. He knew that once he made it upstairs, the Alpha upstairs might somehow pick up on the Winchester’s scent, or, at the very least, pick up on the fact that Stiles was worked up about something.

Which meant that with taking this into consideration, meant that Stiles had to make a decision before he ventured upstairs. And, it wasn’t like he had a whole lot of options here. It really only boiled down to two.

A) Figure out something to tell Derek that while wasn’t exactly a lie, but masked the truth until he figured out the entire situation.

Or...

B) Just simply lay the whole thing out on the line. That the Winchester hunters actually followed them back into town and were posing as FBI agents. 

Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face. Really, it only boiled down to one option. It seemed like it was much easier to just tell Derek the truth, especially given that he would inevitably run into the pair of men around town. Not only that, but he didn’t actually feel like lying to the man. The biggest thing that was eating away at him, making him worry his bottom lip between his teeth. The fact that Derek let him leave, let him out of his sight and he wound up running into the hunters that they new nearly nothing about. Nothing happened, but that wasn’t how Derek would see it and Stiles knew it.

Obviously, broaching the truth was miles from ideal; like, leaps and bounds from what he actually wanted to do. He didn’t want to think about getting a day off from the supernatural world again. That seemed to be a running train of thought lately; though it wasn’t exactly accurate. It wasn’t that he didn’t want any trace of the supernatural in his life, he liked the pack and his best friend becoming a werewolf was one of the coolest things that ever happened to them. It was just that they used to get days off from the threats, even a few days lagging between one thing and another. Now, now it just felt like it was snowballing. That it was one thing after another. He mourned the days where he could have the luxury of actively putting off studying.

Letting out a sigh, he twirled the keys around in his hand. There wasn’t really any point to putting off going inside, the longer he took might make Derek think that something had gone wrong. That aside, the other point was that he was really freaking hungry. Hopefully the Sourwolf had already ordered dinner already. Seriously, there would be words if he didn’t.

Stiles let himself into the apartment and frowned to himself at the lack of smell of the glorious MSG in the Alpha’s apartment. It wasn’t like he took that long going to drop food off to his dad, forty-five minutes tops. And given the delivery rate of most Chinese place, even if Derek put in the order immediately after he left, it was highly unlikely that the food would have arrived by now. 

No biggie. Just meant he had a few more minutes to do some more in depth research on the werewolf’s computer. 

“Not that you need the announcement,” The teenager said as he toed off his shoes before making his way through the seemingly empty apartment. “We’ll just call it common curtesy. I’m obviously back.” He paced behind the couch for a moment, debating his next move. and trying to figure out what the best next course of action was. He didn’t want Derek’s hackles to rise, for him to be put more on the defensive than he already was. Maybe if he was casual about how he presented the information... Nonplus or indifferent worked, right? Oh well. He might as well bite the bullet anyway, get it out there and lay it all out there. It worked out better this way, if he waited, it would probably only piss the werewolf off that he was hiding the information from him.

“Funny thing happened at the station,” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. Even if he didn’t have the man in the room with him, eyes intently staring at him, Stiles still knew he was actively hanging on every word. “The hunters were there, talking to my dad while they posed as FBI agents. So, uh, yeah. Guess they’re really adamant to find out what’s going on in Beacon Hills. Probably should have told them that the Sheriff’s department isn’t exactly the first place that they should look to if they want answers.”

He plopped down on the couch, letting his head hit the back of it. He stayed that way for a couple of minutes, waiting for the freak out that was inevitably coming from the werewolf... Except for once, it didn’t happen. Huh. Then again, after learning that there were new hunters in the mix, maybe the shock value kind of went away. It was probably a good sign that the older man didn’t rush out into the living room, Alpha eyes flashing red. Stiles straightened up to lean forward, powering up the computer again. 

This time he was going to spend more than fifteen minutes looking up the two men on the Internet. They needed real information, stuff that would help them and more than could be gathered from a cursory search. Cold hard facts were pretty necessary if they were going to figure out how to deal with this whole situation. Even if they seemed nice, seemed like they were on the right side of sanity; they couldn’t take that chance. If there was a chance that some of them were as fanatical as some of the Argents... No. They couldn’t just take them at face value, couldn’t hope that they were good people. Hope was a son of bitch when the odds seemed to be stacked against them as often as they were.

Keying their names back in, Stiles immediately pulled up the articles in the news about the brothers. _Killer Duo Still At Large_ was the first article that caught his attention. Amber colored eyes went wide as he drank in each and every word. Apparently this wasn’t the first of the places they hit, but this was the day after one of the worst ones. There were even a couple of screen shots from the security footage from the bank heist. And calling it a bank heist? Well, that was putting it mildly. Apparently, they gathered all of the workers and customers into the bank vault before opening fire on them. 

Stiles felt his stomach drop. Twenty-six people dead. Why would the hunters do something like that? Something so high profile? If it was something supernatural, which Stiles highly doubted, why wouldn’t they make sure that they weren’t on camera? Their faces were so clear in the images, almost intentionally so. What if... crap. What if they were like Kate? Or, what if they were worse than Kate? What if they were more like Gerard? Not caring if they hurt innocent people, humans that either ran with the supernatural beings? Or, even worse than that, people that had nothing to do with that world?

The next article had a video attached to it with a disclaimer about the graphic nature of it. He steeled himself and hit play. It started with the hunters telling someone to record what was going on, how they wanted the world to know. It looked like they were in a diner... with guns. Fuck. They started shooting everyone in the diner, the person shooting the video kept cowering down in the booth, only to get jerked up by one of the hunters, ordering him to keep filming the blood bath. He couldn’t watch the whole thing. It was just too much.

Stiles swallowed hard, feeling a little nauseated as he clicked on another article, reading about how the brothers assaulted another police station and wound up murdering nearly all of the staff before getting killed themselves... which... obviously made no sense at all. Stiles knew for a fact that they weren’t dead. They were real and tangible and it wasn’t only him that saw them. What did that mean? 

How... Christ. This was even more freaking confusing than Stiles initially thought. He really didn’t want to think that they were worse than the Argents. Not that they were all bad, if he had to choose, Stiles would pick Chris and Allison over the rest of them. But that was strictly speaking _if_ he had to. But still... If things were as bad as they seemed they might as well all pack up and leave their home. Run for their fucking lives. But that wasn’t really an option. He wouldn’t run away from a problem anymore than he would want to endanger the pack.

And, what was their game anyway? Why were they pretending to want to help? Were they just planning on turning Beacon Hills into one of the disasters that they left in their wake? Because it wasn’t enough that his hometown was a hotbed for supernatural activity, there had to be potentially psychotic homicidal hunters thrown into the mix... again.

“I practically can hear you thinking from here,” Derek’s voice sounded to his left, drawing the teenager’s unseeing gaze away from the computer for a moment. The older man was leaning against the wall, arms crossed about his chest making his impossible arms look even more well muscled than before. Stiles was reasonable sure that Derek could give Thor a run for his money. Which was seriously unfair. Though, now wasn’t really the time to obsess over the older man’s stunning physique. Either way, physical attributes aside, Stiles had gotten better at reading the Derek’s barely there expressions. And, right now? Derek looked downright concerned. He briefly wondered if that meant his heartbeat was elevated or if Derek could just read him like an open book. In all likelihood, it was probably a combination of the two. “What is it?”

 _What wasn’t it?_ Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated huff of air. “The Winchesters? They seem like they might be, well, there’s no way to sugarcoat it for you Sourwolf, but, they seem like they’re really bad news. Like, possibly, uh,” He winced at his utter lack of finesse in the moment, the revelations of what the hunters did in the past rattled him a bit. He was just doing a really crappy job at this and it wasn‘t like murderous hunters were exactly an easy subject where the Hales were involved. “More murderous than your average everyday hunter sort of murderous. Unless it’s a crazy case of mistaken identity... They’re really, _really_ bad news.”

The Alpha pushed himself off of the wall and walked over to the couch, one eyebrow lifting in lieu of a question. 

“Oh, you know,” Stiles waved a hand in the air, gesturing like it whatever he was about to say was a regular occurrence. After a brief moment, he rubbed the back of his neck, head ducking down as he continued, looking up at Derek through his lashes. “Bank robberies, mass murders... nothing too out of the ordinary.”

“And you ran into them... talking to your father?” A muscle in Derek’s jaw worked as he worked the information over in his head.

“I don’t think they’ll try anything, especially where they were trying to get information about recent events...” Not that they were under the radar when they robbed a couple of banks... Fuck. What if they tried something at the station? It wouldn’t be the first time. Images flashed in his mind, along with the feeling of being barely mobile and deputies getting murdered and his dad... 

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, strong and reassuring, dragging him out of his thoughts. “I won’t let anything happen to him, Stiles.” With Derek’s penchant to throw himself into danger to help others, to rush into things with a half-assed plan just to protect someone else... Stiles knew that the Alpha was telling the truth. That he wouldn’t _let_ anything happen if he could stop it. It was reassuring, but the fact was that things sometimes had a habit of happening whether they wanted it to or not. Stiles knew that it was a part of life, you couldn’t control everything. But, he still wished that things would go their way more often

Stiles nodded, lifting a hand to squeeze the older man’s and forced himself to flash a watered down smile before dropping his hand. Pretending that his hand wasn’t tingling with the aftermath of the skin t skin contact, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know big guy. I just wish we could have a break from the threats. Just like.. a week. I’d like to sleep in one of theses days, yanno?”

“You’re barely up before eleven,” Derek said in a dry, even tone, the corners of his lips turning up. It was terrible, the fact that Stiles thought that he would give his right arm just to have one of Derek’s full blown smiles thrown his way. They were blinding. Stiles had only seen the Alpha fake his smile, back at the police station and ever since, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Wondering what exactly it would take to get Derek to smile like that for real and at him. Stiles thought about it often, way too freaking often, if the skin around the werewolf’s eyes would crinkle with laugh lines, and if his eyes would sparkle with mirth.

Mirth? Christ. He liked it better when he was obsessively infatuated with Lydia. Stiles liked to think at least then he sounded less ridiculous. Which, even if that was totally not the case, at least he could run with the whole denial thing. Always a good route to follow.

Shaking himself out of that thought process, which, by the way, was something he should seriously get over because it was never going to happen. Story of his life, really. It was like a broken record, analog was the soundtrack to his life. “Exactly! I’m supposed to be a lay about youth, sleep until two! Imagine how glorious it would be to get twelve hours of sleep! It could totally be a thing.” 

Derek chuckled for a moment before tilting his head to the side a split second before the buzzer rang. “Food’s here, clear off the coffee table?"

Werewolf hearing. God, he wished he still found that creepy or off-putting.. Still? Let‘s just face it, come to terms with the whole thing. Stiles _never_ really found it off-putting. Freaking awesome is more like it. Not that he ever asked Scott to eavesdrop on anyone before since the bite. Nope. Not at all.

Stiles closed the computer before moving off of the couch to place it on the desk in the corner. It was funny, the fact that Derek’s request sounded just like one rather than a demand. If it was a like a year ago, Derek would have just barked at him to do it in his superior and commanding Alpha voice. He still couldn’t get over how much the man had changed. Maybe it was just getting used to the new power that being an Alpha brought him, like instincts that had were surging through him that had to even out like hormones. As the teenager turned the radio on, he let out a snort, imagining if there was a book that compared and contrasted the types of werewolves with the changes in the human body. 

Though, really, there ought to be a handbook out there. It would seriously help out in the long run if people weren’t left to scramble and fend for themselves. Well, people who didn’t have awesome best friends to help them through the rough transition.

He spun around in a circle to the music, shimmying as he made his way toward the kitchen to get a stack of plates and silverware. Even though Derek said the rest of the pack would be a while, he might as well have it all ready to go when they actually showed up. Last time they had a pack meeting, no one got plates and Isaac wound up dropping a slice of pizza on the new carpet that Derek just installed. There was a lot of growling and angrily applying stain remover... Stiles had to admit it was ~~adorable~~ amusing to watch the whole scene unfold.

Either way, no making a mess in Derek’s new apartment meant plates and... Stiles ducked into the cabinet beside the fridge, pulling out a stack of napkins. If Isaac could accidentally make a mess with werewolf reflexes, there was no doubt as to whether or not Stiles could. That was just a given. 

Derek was already placing the two brown paper bags beside the coffee table, moving to open them and arrange the take out containers on the coffee table when Stiles came back into the room, arms laden with everything since he apparently didn’t know how to make two trips. 

The plates clattered a little as he placed them on the end of the coffee table. Stiles let out a moan and patted his stomach. “That smells great. I’m starving.”

They ate mostly in companionable silence. Well, companionable _near_ silence, the satellite radio played in the background as they picked away at the food. Even with a pack of werewolves and teenagers, Stiles still thought that Derek had a tendency to over order. He wondered if it was due to growing up with a large family or the urge to provide for all of them. Not that Stiles was complaining, he would probably keep eating until he made himself sick. What? He was a growing boy and teenagers where known for being human garbage disposals. All of the food, all of the time. Well, unless he had too much Adderall and forgot to eat; so no the point. Food is good, too much food was like the American way. It was his right as an American to gorge on food. 

As they ate, Stiles realized something. It wasn’t just that his mouth was occupied (no punny innuendos, please, we’ll touch on that subject later), but his usual habit of trying to fill the silence with words wasn’t always a thing when he was around Derek. He found that he didn’t need to spout out the first thing, random or not, that came to mind or level a snarky comment that was heavily laced with sarcasm. Of course, it wasn’t that he stopped being sarcastic with Derek, that still happened plenty often, Stiles couldn’t _not_ be sarcastic, especially to Derek. Hell, sometimes he even brought it out in him even more. It was just that, if he didn’t have something to say immediately, he just didn’t feel like he had to break the silence. Sometimes, Stiles found that it was just nice to be around Derek without any agenda. Maybe since Derek’s demeanor was so quiet, that he was such an introvert most of the time, that it was rubbing off on Stiles when they were together. Or, maybe his presence was calming or something; he wasn’t really all that sure. Either way, right now? Stiles was just enjoying eating and hanging out with the man. It wasn’t like his brain wasn’t going a mile a minute trying to wrap itself around the whole mess with the new hunters in town.

And, if he was being completely honest with himself, it wasn’t like there was a niggling bit of guilt worming its way in his gut about how all of this was his fault. That the two of them wouldn’t have come storming into town if it hadn’t been for the videos that Stiles put up. Which, okay, Stiles wasn’t exactly ashamed of them, but, really, he should have waited and maybe asked Danny to help him with the technical side of things.

Guilt aside, he was just content to mow down and soak in the calm moment. Their problems were still there, but even just relaxing for a couple of minutes was nice. It reminded Stiles that while there was always something supernatural in the mix (it was kind of like that when you hung out with a pack of werewolves) but it wasn’t always complicated. Things could find some sense of normalcy amongst the sea of weird, bad and worse. 

Humming to himself, Stiles leaned across Derek to grab another crab rangoon. He suspected that it was placed as far away from him on purpose. Derek _knew_ that Stiles could, and probably would given the chance, eat his weight in them. They were delicious and perfect creations that the teenager considered to be the curly fries of Chinese cuisine. Not... Not that he would ever dream of cheating on his precious curly fries. They were his jam, his boo, his... whatever. They were just amazingly delicious, that was all. 

As his fingers snatched up one of the rangoons by the corner, Stiles turned his head to the side to thank Derek for the food. Except, he didn’t because the words died on his tongue and his mouth went dry. Derek’s face was inches away from his own, so close that he could see the full spectrum of colors that made up the werewolf’s ridiculous eyes. Hell, he was so close that he could count each individual lush dark lash that framed the aforementioned eyes. Stiles’ gaze drifted down to Derek’s lips for a brief second before snapping back up to meet the man’s gaze.

He was distracted by the lack of distance and, well, by Derek’s infuriatingly attractive face, so naturally it took him a couple of seconds for his brain to catch up and actually start working. After filing away the seven or eight colors that he would probably spend hours on the Internet trying to find the names to describe all of them (yes, Stiles was totally and one gazillion percent _that_ guy) he registered the barely there expression on the older man’s face. As usual, it was cautiously closed off, yet, there was something about the purse of his lips and the slight arch of his brow that was questioning. Stiles didn’t get it. What had he done? They were just eating. did his eating habits offend him? It’s not like he had been talking around a mouth full of food or anything. No, that couldn’t be it because even before they started spending increasingly amounts of time together, Derek had already been well aware of how much Stiles could put away and how he ate. 

It wasn’t until he went to gesture with his other hand that he actually got it.

Really, he was totally way more observant than this. Something this oblivious would ruin his street cred. 

When he had leaned over to grab more food, his left hand had braced his weight on Derek’s leg. Well, to be more specific, his well muscled thigh. Upper thigh. Also known as the danger zone. Amber eyes flitted down to gaze at his hand, taking in how pale his fingers looked against the dark denim of Derek’s impossibly tight jeans. And, it wasn’t like this was ever going to be repeated so he quickly tried to catalog how the man’s leg felt under his hand. He tried, he really did, not to think of how it would feel if there wasn’t fabric separating their skin. How Derek’s warm skin would feel against his palm. He tried not to wonder if his muscle would jump if he slid his hand further up towards--

Shit.

Get it together Stilinski!

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t--” Stiles started, but when Derek shook his head and a small smirk pulling at the corners of his lips cut the apology short. The change of expression floored him, confused the fuck out of Stiles that it actually made him speechless for a minute. Which didn’t happen often. Stammered and stumped for a moment, okay, but flat out speechless? It wasn’t usually a thing.

Derek‘s hand that wasn‘t holding his fork lifted from the arm of the couch, fingers wrapping around Stiles’ wrist. “It’s okay, I don’t m--” And, of course, it was Derek’s time to get cut off by the sound of his cell phone ringing. Awesome. Timing was definitely not on their side. Instead of letting go of Stiles’ wrist, Derek’s other hand dropped his fork onto his plate before he picked up the phone to answer it. 

“Boyd,” Stiles rolled his eyes, of course Derek couldn’t just say ‘Hello’ when he picked up the phone. Seriously, there was like a proper etiquette and everything. Miss Manners would not be pleased.

“Where?” Derek’s thumb slid over Stiles’ pulse point, the pad of it gently pushing into the soft flesh of his wrist as he listened to the teen on the other end of the call. The teenager would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat at the soft caress.

“I’ll be there in ten, don’t let her out of your sight.” Derek exhaled a sigh, letting go of Stiles to pinch the bridge of his nose as he ended the call. 

Stiles took that to mean that whatever they were having, if it was even a moment, was officially over. So he grabbed the take out container and leaned back to his side of the couch, removing his hand from Derek’s leg. “What did Boyd have to say? And where are you going to be in ten minutes? I thought they were at the movies being normal, not emotionally traumatized werewolves?”

Derek shook his head before getting up and placing his plate on the coffee table. “Someone didn’t smell right outside the theater.”

“Like a werewolf? Or... “ Stiles trailed off as Derek shook his head. “Great. Possible threat, not werewolf. Just what we need to have on top of more hunters and freaking angels. Maybe we could get them all together and have a welcome wagon party? Giant ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ sign hanging in front of Town Hall? Maybe we can politely ask them to _not_ murder anyone or attack our pack? Strike up a truce since the last couple of things that go bump in the night that we ran into were so understanding and all non-murderous.”

“I know. Look,” Derek crossed his arms about his chest, looking down at the floor instead of at Stiles. He knew that Derek did that sometimes, like he was summoning up the courage to say what he wanted. Like looking at someone was distracting to his thought process. “You should just stay here, wait for Isaac and Scott while I see what we’re dealing with.”

Stiles scoffed, through his head back almost indignantly. “Yeah, okay buddy.” He dusted the flakes from the rangoons off of his shirt as he stood up and put the container back down on the coffee table so he could place his hands on his hips. “Let’s get this straight, there’s absolutely no way I’m _not_ gonna go with you. You guys need me. I’m totally essential.”

“You’re not going in blind--”

“But you are?” He cut in, clearly not playing into this bullshit that Stiles was fragile and should just wait around and not help them out. Plus, way to pull a double standard. Derek was always going in blind, it was a weakness as well as a strength for him. It left him open to be consistently surprised. It was like he forgot that Stiles actually helped save him multiple times, let alone every member of the pack at one point or another. So what if he wasn’t a werewolf? He wasn’t about to just let them all go head first into danger without him. “You don’t even know what you’re going up against, which, you know, is always a good idea.”

Letting out a frustrated huff of air through his nose, Derek pursed his lips together as his eyes flashed red. “You’re not getting into harms way. Again.” 

“No, it’s cool,” Stiles rolled his eyes, waving a hand in front of his face in a dismissive gesture. “Maybe I’ll just ask that Castiel dude to patch me up again--” Derek let out a low growl. “Kidding. Mostly. Look, I’ll drive the get away car, or! Or, you still have that spare jar of mountain ash that we didn’t use for the Siren? Okay, we can totally use that if you guys get it cornered and then we can trap it without anyone getting hurt or anything. See? We’re not going in blind. There’s a plan now.”

There was a long moment of silence where they just stared at each other, okay maybe not staring but actively glaring defiantly at each other, waiting for the other to back down. They were both stubborn as hell sometimes, but this was definitely not something that Stiles was going to budge on. Hell, if Derek left him here, he would probably just run over there on his own anyway... So, yeah. It’s not like he hadn’t done that before.

“Fine.” Derek said through gritted teeth, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Just don’t get hurt.”

“Yeah,” Stiles rolled his eyes, heading to go throw his shoes on. “Because that’s always on the agenda. You caught me, I actually like getting my ass kicked. Cat’s out of the bag now.”

 

They wound up parking a block away from the movie theater and Stiles was a little surprised that Derek didn’t have more speeding tickets. It wasn’t that he drove like a complete maniac or anything. The ride itself across town was smooth but the guy clearly didn’t adhere to all the rules of the road; especially posted speeding limits. Derek slid out of the driver’s side door almost immediately after killing the engine. He hesitated a moment with the door ajar before ducking his head back into the car, eyes trained on Stiles, “Stay here.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, the teenager simply lifted his hands up with his palms facing out surrender. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You three will scout out the situation before we try to corner her. I got it the first time.” _And the second... And the third... But, really who’s counting?_ He thought to himself, actually able to refrain from saying it out-loud, ten points to Gryffindor for self-restraint. The Alpha nodded and apparently getting Stiles to repeat the plan was enough for him because he shut the door and began stalking off towards where Erica was leaning against a street lamp.

Letting out a sigh, he drummed his fingers against the dashboard. His eyes were glued to the Alpha’s form as he made his way towards one of his betas. “Could’ve at least left the radio on, Sourwolf,” he muttered, garnering a glance backwards from Derek. 

Stiles ducked his head, looking out the open window beside him. There weren’t many people on the street around him at the moment. Then again, it was seven thirty, any kids around his age were probably in the movies or at the house party they drove past a couple of blocks away from Scott’s house. It was probably good that the street was mostly deserted since there was another potential supernatural creature in their midst. Last thing they needed was another body count. 

Now left to his own devices, he couldn’t help but replay what happened earlier in his head. Sure, it was just an accident, him putting his hand on Derek’s thigh, but... But, then it wasn’t like Derek lost it. Told him to never do it again or anything. Why did he hold his wrist like that? And, why in hell did Boyd have to call right then? Cutting off whatever Derek was going to say. He didn’t, what? Mind? He didn’t... Oh hell, he didn’t know. There was probably no way in hell that Drek was going to tell him that he actually didn’t mind Stiles accidentally putting his hand on his thigh, that any and all touching was perfectly okay with him. The werewolf was probably just going to let him down easy, shut him down for good.

It was a common trend in his life that he crushed on people that were so far out of his league that it was laughable. Stiles really had a type, it was just never going to get any further than admiring from afar, getting his hopes up. Even when Derek touched his shoulder, werewolves were tactile creatures. Derek probably just looked at him in one light: as pack. Stiles was just part of the group of people, his family that he had to protect and look after. Not as a boyfriend or a mate or anything. Which was of course why Derek also checked in on him after the siren debacle, why he drove out of his way when he was at the motel with the Winchesters. 

Fuck. Of course. That made so much sense. Derek was just doing his alpha duties. Stiles frowned as he looked down at his hands that rested on his lap, shaking slightly due to the bounce of his knee. 

“Hey,” Stiles was brought out of his reverie of damnable thoughts by a figure leaning against the car by his window. His eyes trailed up her torso to her face. She was pretty, maybe eighteen or nineteen, her hair cascading down her back in black waves contrasting with her milky white skin. Her lips were painted a deep red and her light blue eyes were rimmed with kohl. She was gorgeous, but in a way that made Stiles wary. Beautiful strangers in Beacon Hills never really lead to anything good. “Was that your boyfriend, handsome?”

He pointed to his chest, reacting for a moment solely to the fact that someone under the age of sixty who wasn’t related to him was calling him ‘handsome.’ Stiles looked to where the woman gestured behind her over her shoulder, vaguely in the direction that Derek had sauntered off. “What? Him? And me? Nah, he’s not my... nope,” He swallowed around a lump in his throat as he thinks of yesterday and the near kiss that he tried to initiate. Stiles shook his head before leaning towards the window. “Totally single here. What, uh, what about you? Come here often?”

Smooth, real smooth. Maybe he should just increase his chances of never seeing any kind of action by laying the worst pick up lines on all of the attractive people he runs into. Yep. Awesome.

“Just passing through," She said, drumming her nails on the hood of the Camaro, her eyes never once leaving his face.

Stiles nodded as he drew back from the window, eyebrows furrowed. No one just ‘passed through’ Beacon Hills. There were no twenty-four hour diners for truckers. Hell, the highway was about ten miles west of here. Not far enough to make it inconvenient but far enough that it didn’t draw in any drifters.

But, before Stiles could comment further on it, black manicured fingers reached through the open window and fisted in his shirt before yanking him straight out of his seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the whaaat? Stuff goes down next chapter. What was that woman, huh? How dare she mess with our Stiles!
> 
> Also, apparently I'm cool with cliff-hangers. I'm one of those writers. I also made up how many people died in the bank heist because I couldn't find it in the supernatural wiki... So! I took liberties. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the update and thanks so much for reading dearies!


	8. What is it called when everything collides into a giant freaking mess? A catastrophe? That seems about right. (Except when it isn't)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles sort of being attacked by a supernatural being, hunters and possible near death experiences... oh my.
> 
> In short? Stuff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No excuses this time. I could complain about work being insane, about trying to do NaNo... But, not gonna. I delayed on the update for reasons and that sucks. 
> 
> I hope this is good and I didn't rush it because I wanted to just... yep. Okay, just read. 
> 
> *salutes*

He hit the concrete hard, the air knocked out of his lungs with a wooshing sound upon impact. Stiles had a brief moment to be glad, really freaking glad, extremely glad, that his arm had braced his head from hitting the ground. He really did not need another concussion. There was an aborted move to roll over in attempts to roll over so he could push himself off of the ground. The movement was stopped short when he was jerked upright and onto his feet by a strong grip on the back of his collar. The dark haired woman twisted her grip on the back of his shirt and began dragging him across the street toward the parking garage.

While stumbling, tripping over his own feet, Stiles discretely checked his pockets for his phone to no avail. Which, of course was the cherry on top of the pie of his life. Maybe he had dropped it on the road when this bitch yanked him out of the car... or it was still in the passenger seat. Crap. Crap. Double freaking crap. He really needed a panic button or something. Like those buttons that were advertised on TV for the elderly when they were having a heart attack or had a hip slip out of place... except his should emit a noise that only the pack could hear. Yep, that should definitely be a thing that existed. 

Though, it probably wouldn’t have been an issue if he hadn’t insisted that he come along and wound up being left alone practically waiting to be picked off by whatever the freaking hell she was. 

Which, it really wouldn’t be that big of a deal, his impeding doom, if he hadn’t practically twisted Derek’s arm to bring him along. This was just classic. Just his luck all over again.

As they walked through the doors of the garage, Stiles could feel his heart practically hammering against his rib cage. He desperately tried to think of something to do, but it felt like he was grasping at straws. Even if he tried to run away, already knowing that she was strong probably meant that she would be fast too. He probably wouldn’t even get ten feet before she caught him-- and that was if she wanted to play with him a bit. Definitely not something he wanted to think about; playing cat and mouse with this creature. He had to wonder how long it would take the werewolves to notice that he was gone. If they were canvassing the area, it might take ten minutes to a half hour... Time was definitely not on his side. 

He mourned the mountain ash that sat on the floor where his feet had been planted back in the car. So, trying to trap her in a circle while he was trying not to get mauled was completely out of the question. Seriously, if he made it out of this he really had to grill Deaton to give him some tips on protection. He had the spark, he at least had to have some basic magic skills... anything to stop this from happening again. Stiles Stilinski was not helpless, but he might need some help every now and again.

As the woman pressed him forward, up a flight of stairs to the second floor of the garage, Stiles couldn’t help but sport a self deprecating grin. Of course, of course he had actually been listening to Derek’s orders for once and look where it got him. Stiles shook his head slightly, he couldn’t really win. Ever.

Once they got to the second level of the garage, Stiles found himself crowded against the wall. The woman’s body was pressed flush against him, her hands resting against the concrete wall on either side of Stiles’ head. So, okay. Super strength was all he knew right now, fighting back without a weapon would be foolish. Still, that didn’t tell him much about anything really. This must be the person who didn’t ‘smell right,’ which, could they be more specific? The whole werewolf 101 didn’t really help with identifying random threats. Which was really helpful. Great. Now Derek was definitely going to probably look into handcuffing him to something in the apartment to keep him out of these situations. Well. that was if he actually made it out of this.

“You know,” The woman leaned in close, the tip of her nose brushing against the crook of his neck, breathing in slowly as she maneuvered her face towards his jaw. Letting out a huff of air, she drew her face back, body still pressed against Stiles’, iron clad grip of her hands on his shoulders keeping him in place. “You smell, you smell like dog. But,” She shook her head, finger tracing over the side of his face. “You’re not one of them. Is that why the big bad left you in the car? Didn’t want me to get my hands on you, precious?”

Stiles shook his head, trying to distance himself from the woman’s touch, a defiant glimmer in his eyes, “Just as an FYI, they don’t really appreciate dog jokes.” And, really, it was only okay if he did it. When he did it, it was more tongue and cheek, less of a heavy handed insult. 

Great. That was really the best news that he could possibly hope for. Except, not at all. So.. the whole werewolf thing was out of the bag. That really didn’t instill much trust in the person. Not that basically kidnapping someone was the best indicator of someone who would look out for the packs best interest. The thing that he was really curious about was that did she come her _because_ of the pack. It was far too random for it to actually be an accident. 

“You know what I also don’t think they’d like?” She practically purred in his ear, rubbing the back of her hand against Stiles’ cheek. “Having their favorite toy taken away from them.”

Wait, what? Favorite... OH, hell to the no. Stiles jerked himself as upright as he could with the woman pressed against him, pulling his best ‘bitch please’ expression. “Listen lady, I am **no ones** toy. And, by the way, I have faced way more badasses than you. You seem like child’s play. And, really, if you think that killing me is a good idea, then you’re going to have one pissed off pack on your hands. And they’re pretty relentless. They’re like fleas. They just don’t freaking give up.”

“Oh sweetie,” The woman slid her hand through his hair before grabbing a fistful of it and yanking his head to the side, exposing the long curve of his neck. Stiles gritted his teeth, eyes never leaving the woman’s face. “I’m not gonna kill you, what would be the fun in that?”

The woman opened her mouth wide, a soft sound emitting when pin sharp teeth slid out of her gums. It was a sound that, with Stiles’ mind could only be categorized as a baby Wolverine (not to be confused with X-23, who was a super badass and never really precious, but tragic and in desperate need of a hug). With almost lightening fast speed, she lunged forward, sinking her teeth into the crook of his neck.

A whimper escaped his lips, just before the pain subsided into something more tolerable. His vision went red at the feel of dozens of razor sharp teeth slicing through his flesh with ease. He couldn’t even be sure if he had yelled out in pain, his entire being too overwhelmed with the feeling of the teeth in his throat, the odd sensation of blood loss. It felt like he was drugged. Not like the times when he took too much of his adderall, He felt detached, like he was floating.

Stiles’ eyes fluttered closed as something warm was pressed to his lips. He didn’t think twice about parting his lips, allowing the warm substance fill his mouth, swallowing it down in greedy gulps. It felt... it felt right, natural. With the warmth that was passing through his limbs and coursing through his veins... He felt safe, at home.

It seemed to go on for an eternity. The seconds stretched out like hours and Stiles didn’t know or care how long he stayed like this. But, in all reality it was only a couple of seconds before it was all torn away.

His eyes opened in time to catch a blur of movement as the woman was thrown away from him.Stiles found that he couldn’t really register what was going on, after the source of the warmth was torn away. Instead of trying to figure out what was going on, Stiles’ slid down the wall to the ground and pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them close. He knew that he should be doing something, figuring out what is going on and probably how to get the hell out of here. But, it was difficult, trying to think-- at all. So, instead of trying to do something, Stiles concentrated on breathing, on calming the hammering of his heart that pounded in his ears. 

It wasn’t long until a pair of hands landed on his shoulders, shaking him gently.

“Stiles,” A gruff voice sounded before him. It took Stiles a minute to place it, his head swam slightly as his brain put two and two together. The teenager lifted his head allowing his eyes to trace the familiar planes of the Alpha’s face. Past the thin layer of primal aggression etched in his features, the pure concern that shone in Derek’s eyes made Stiles feel butterflies in his stomach.

“I’m,” Stiles awkwardly pulled him self up, forcing himself to his feet; much with the help of the werewolf standing before him. He closed his eyes for a second, letting his equilibrium find its axis before continuing. “I think I’m alright, Derek.” 

The werewolf scoffed, gesturing to the collar of Stiles’ shirt that was soaked with blood from the bite on his neck. “I can see that.” Derek placed a hand under the younger man’s jaw and cheated it to the side, leaning in to inspect the wound. He made a thoughtful sound, pressing his other hand against the sticky blood of the bite, fingers almost sliding underneath the collar at the nape of Stiles’ neck. The few remaining bits of stabbing pain started to ebb away and Stiles fisted his hands in the fabric of the Henley that Derek was wearing, unable to do anything else. He knew that Derek was taking away the pain, trying to help him in the only way he could. 

“Stiles,” Derek breathed out, sounding more like a sigh of relief as he rested their foreheads against one another. “I’m sorry. You should have never b--”

He didn’t have time to take in whatever Derek was about to say, or enjoy the moment of being together with the relief of knowing that the other is okay, He wasn’t allowed to soak in the relief in knowing that no matter what, they always had each other’s backs. The deafening sound of three rounds getting shot off shook him too his core. Derek’s form went rigid, pulling himself away from Stiles with a grimace, only to turn around and growl at the new threat.

Stiles steadied himself by placing his hand on the werewolf’s shoulder, looking over at the two men who still had their guns pointed in their direction. The hunters. Their expressions were grim, hands steady as they kept their weapons trained on Derek as he no doubt bred his teeth and flashed his alpha red eyes at them.

“It’s alright,” He tried to shout, voice straining and cracking. “Derek, these are those hunters, the Winchesters.” Stiles drew in a breath before pushing himself off and away from the concrete wall to walk around the werewolf, effectively putting himself between him and the hunters. “He wasn’t... He didn’t do this to me. Don’t shoot him again, alright? There was a woman...” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, amber eyes panning the garage for any sign of her to no avail. “She attacked me and we should really probably try to find her before she tries it on anyone else.”

The hunters glanced over at each other, their eyes wide as they seemed to silently communicate through a variation of expressions. “Well, uh...”

Derek let out a grunt from behind him before it seemed like his legs gave out beneath him. Stiles whirled around in time to see the man trying to steady himself in a crouch, his hands splayed on the ground before him on the concrete. There were beads of sweat forming on his forehead and, fuck, Derek looked pale. Really freaking pale. This was something that Stiles had seen before, firsthand. Well before he knew Derek as a person, well before he even really knew or liked him.

Stiles turned around and pointed at the hunters, “Wolfsbane?” The two men glanced at each other before nodding once solemnly. Great, of course they would have done their research. It wasn’t like wolfsbane was a secret in mythology or anything. But, despite the pain that the Alpha was clearly in, there was a way to fix this.

“Alright,” Stiles nodded twice, placing his hands on his hips. At least this time he knew what to do, what was expected of him. He knew how he had to play this, what he had to do to save Derek. “I’m not even going to ask about the wolfsbane bullets... totally on the back burner for the moment. Right now I need, what, three? Yeah, three of those and a lighter or some matches. No questions, do not pass go. We’re not doing anything until he’s alright, okay?”

Dean was the first to lower his gun, eyebrows knitting together as his gaze drifted away from Stiles to the figure behind him. “How do we know this isn’t a trick? That you’re just saying this to, I don’t know, catch us off guard so he can do whatever and rip us to freaking shreds?”

“Dean,” Sam spoke from beside him, finally lowering his gun to empty the chamber, the bullets falling into the open palm of his left hand. “I think we should trust him. Nothing else checked out to suggest that he wasn’t telling the truth. If the guy was a crossroads demon, the bullets shouldn’t have effected him at all. I mean, c’mon look at him.”

The older hunter shook his head twice quickly, “Means werewolf by the videos. Still a thing that goes bump in the night and still something that we should... I dunno, put down before he hurts anyone else? What about the other deaths? All of them over the past few years? Nothing is really adding up, well, nothing apart from the body count.”

“Like I said at the motel, Derek is not to blame for any of that. If anything, he tried to stop it from happening. Besides," Stiles cleared his throat, “Wolfsbane is pretty lethal to humans, aconite poisoning is a pretty serious thing. The whole side effects range from anesthetic, diarrhea, convulsions, dizziness, lacrimation, and more. Not to mention, you know, death.” The teenager let out a breath of air, shaking his head. He really needed the brothers to give him the bullets. Last time he saw Derek like this, it was from one bullet over several hours. What would be different when it was multiple bullets? Undoubtedly, the wolfsbane would travel through his system faster if there was more introduced to his system... what was the difference between now and the last time? God. At least he didn’t think he would have to cut the man’s arm off. Definitely not something he wanted to revisit. Like at all.

He felt like he was holding his breath again, waiting as the two hunters turned away from him, whispering furiously for a couple of minutes. Stiles could hear Derek breathing heavily behind him, the herb no doubt coursing through his veins and making him weaker, killing him slowly. Not with his song. Crap, really? Now was not the time to be making horrible jokes, even if they were in his own head. 

“Goddammit,” Dean nearly shouted, taking the bullets from Sam and stalking over towards the teenager with a scowl on his face. The man paused for a minute, gritting his teeth before he pressed the cold casings into Stiles’ palm. “Kid, don’t make us regret this, okay? We’re... we’re choosing to trust you. This better not bite us in the ass.”

Stiles couldn’t hep but let out a sigh of relief, fingers closing around the three bullets. He opened his mouth to ask, but before the words could get out, Dean presented him with a zippo lighter.

“Thank you,” Stiles said a bit breathlessly. He heard a low growl far off to his left, teenager’s gaze turned toward the noise, seeing Erica and Boyd had made it to the parking garage. He wasn’t sure how long they had been there, or if they had just finally shown up. Either way, the pair of them were posed in a stance that showed that insisted that they were ready for a fight. “Guys, stand down.” He was surprised at how sure of himself and the authority he didn’t actually have. Fuck, he sounded like he actually had some pull over the betas. To his surprise, they turned towards him, eyes burning gold as they took a few steps closer to himself and Derek.

It was really more than he could deal with at the moment. They were friends, pack... but, he had never had them listen to him in a situation like this before. Stiles drew in a sharp breath through his nose before he maneuvered himself behind Derek and steeled himself. It felt like he was in a daze, not part of himself as he performed the same thing three times that he once saw Derek do. He saw the man’s muscles tense up after each wound was tended to, knew that the agonizing pain was something that came with not falling over the edge and dying. After the third bullet wound was tended to, Derek arched his back before falling backwards on the ground.

Stiles felt like his heart was caught in his throat, watching Derek look almost lifeless on the ground sprawled out before him. This... No. Fuck this. This was definitely not the ending that they were going to have. Derek was going to be alive. He had to be okay. 

Right. He didn’t waste a second before he settled himself on top of Derek, knees on either side of the older man’s hips, hands resting on either side of his face. It was strange, seeing his face so relaxed. He was used to the pinched expressions, the rare smiles and the constipated frustration. But... this was different. It was almost like Derek wasn’t even there anymore. Which... well, was not even an option he could even contemplate. He had to be okay. After... fuck. After everything, this was not the end. The Alpha had to be okay.

“Derek,” Stiles hated the way his voice sounded so detached, so broken as he utters the man’s name. There was a long, torturously long moment as he waited for the older man to open his eyes. To just open them and roll his eyes and tell Stiles that he was being ridiculous, foolish even to worry about him. To tell him that the necessary steps were taken and he was going to be okay. Werewolves bounce back, it was what they did. 

There’s a long moment where he waits for the man to open his eyes only to roll them, to call Stiles ridiculous. To tell hi he was foolish for being worried, that he was a werewolf and he wound bounce back. It was what they did. 

Except when a few minutes went by and Derek didn’t move a muscle, it made Stiles panic. He couldn’t think about what he would do if the man beneath him was d-- 

No. He was not... Derek had to be okay.

Suddenly, the werewolf drew in a deep breath before his eyes opened, gaze shifting for a few minutes before settling Stiles’ face. Thank fucking Christ. He was alright. “Don’t you ever do that again. No more getting shot or almost dying. I’m done saving your werewolf ass time and time again. Can we just skip that for the rest of forever and just not deal with that part? I think we should avoid catastrophes as much as possible. Can’t someone else deal with the whole threat thing? Maybe we could take a supernatural hiatus. Well, not a fully hiatus since you’re technically a supernatural being and we can’t really take a hiatus from you. But, whatever you know what I mean. We seriously need a couple of days off from all of this nonsen--”

Stiles was cut off and completely freaking surprised by a pair of lips surging forward to capture his own in a kiss. It started out as a chaste kiss, almost as if Derek was giving him a moment to react. Which, was really considerate since his brain seemed to short circuit, trying to process the idea of Derek Hale actually kissing him out of his own free will. The teenager was jolted back to reality when it seemed like Derek was pulling away, which, uh-uh, that was definitely not happening. 

Sure, he wasn’t experienced but he was going to go with cut instincts on this one. Stiles slid a hand to the back of Derek’s head moving his lips against the werewolf’s feverantly, trying to convey the feelings that had been building up inside of him over the past few months. It didn’t take long until he felt Derek’s tongue licking past the seam of his lips demanding, not begging, for entrance and deepening the kiss.

Someone cleared their throat far off to their left, causing Derek to pull away, leaving Stiles trying to chase after his lips. He wanted so much more, he didn’t even care about their audience, they could go screw for all he cared. He just wanted to keep kissing since that was something that he was allowed to do now. With Derek. His life was ridiculous sometimes; in the best possible way.

“Sorry,” The Alpha said, resting his forehead against Stiles’ for a brief moment before laying back against the concrete. His hands came to rest on the top of the teenagers thighs, causing him to look down to take in the way the splayed fingers looked against his denim jeans. It started the train of thought about how the slightly tanned skin would look against his bare skin, ghosting over him or holding him in his place as they..

Stiles shook his head, “Wait, what now?” Sorry? Was Derek already regretting the kiss? Had he done something wrong? What if Derek didn’t enjoy the kiss and now was regretting his life decisions? That would probably be the fastest turn around ever if that were the case. Fuck, and wouldn’t that just be his luck? Finally got someone interested in him and it fell through as the drop of a hat. If that was what was going on here, his life was seriously unfair and he would totally resort to locking himself in his room for the length of forever.

The corners of Derek’s lips lifted ever so slightly, a movement that might have been missed if he didn’t know the werewolf as well as he did. “I interrupted you.”

The teenager let out a barking loud laugh, grin still present well after he stopped laughing. “Dude, you have a free pass to interrupt me if that’s how you’re going to do it.” Stiles bit his lower lip, closing his eyes and trying to regain control of himself. “Seriously.” 

Derek flashed a smile, something nearly blinding and radiant. Stiles couldn’t help but think that Derek should always look like this, this happy. It... It’s had to comprehend that _he_ was the reason for it. That he was the cause of Derek looking this young, this happen and open, and...fuck. It’s something so raw and exciting that Stiles isn’t entirely that sure he deserves this. That he deserves Derek.. He notices the back of Derek’s neck and the tips of his ears turning red as he chuckles to himself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCHMOOP.


	9. I refuse to become a creature of the night, or, Christ, please tell me they don’t sparkle? If they sparkle, I’ll be planning on impaling myself on a stake immediately

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with the aftermath of Stiles getting bit by a vampire, the group tries to figure out what steps to take.
> 
> Again, summaries... bane of by existence. Just go with it. If you're already invested, you know the dealio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I saw one of the bookmarks for this fic in which someone said this was more Teen Wolf than Supernatural. Which, okay, accurate. But, I also feel like you tend to get that with cross-overs, people get pulled into the other world so-to-speak. And, I've sailed with the ship that takes over my life and even though I have other ships... well, it took over. So, long story short, I switched POVs for a chapter, I think this will happen again. I'm itching to write Cas. 
> 
> So, hopefully this is good for ya'll. Not super action-y but I'm cool with that.
> 
> Sorry, no kissing in this chapter ~~next chapter fo sho~~.

Dean had had enough. He was going on day three of little less than three hours of sleep, not that that was actually a first for him given his lifestyle, but, this whole thing? Definitely trying his patience. Not quite the last straw, though it nearly felt like it. Okay, maybe he was feeling a bit melodramatic. They had dealt with a heck of a lot worse situations; being in hell was one of those not so fond memories that came to mind. Not a lot topped that one. But, still. This was getting flat out ridiculous. Different kinds of werewolves? Ones that, as he saw with the cute blonde, flashed golden eyes, fangs and a dangerous looking set of claws. Oh, and let’s not forget the most important thing, they could change at freaking will. Of course, heh, _of course_ they had done more research over the past couple of hours. They watched the videos that the kid put up along with tracking down other werewolf lore that might coincide with what Stiles had said in the videos. Nothing wound up being all that conclusive. 

Though, they didn’t get very far until Garth called with a tip about a couple of ‘bizarre’ murders that happened over the past couple of weeks in the towns surrounding Beacon Hills, all of the vics were drained of blood. That was when they tracked down the loft that the vampire was squatting in, it had been one of the victims from a few towns over. There were a couple of wallets spread out over the coffee table, some matched the victims that Garth had told them about. Though, there was no hive of vampires. Which was the weird part, they tended to like to stay in packs for the most part. Not that there weren’t always exceptions to the usual rules.

Heck, Dean would be happy if they only had to put down one vampire. It certainly made their lives a helluva lot easier. 

Even with the addition of the vampire into the mix, they had to step back for a second and try to think about what this, all of this, meant. It was all too much in the same area that it could be a coincidence or pure dumb luck of them being in the right place at the right time. First, there was Stiles’ friends, and there was a siren that they had apparently taken out, and then now a vampire? What next? Maybe there was more to this town than they originally thought. Maybe they would have to some more digging once they got the immediate threats sorted out. Find out if there was some reason that it seemed like a shit ton of supernatural being seemed to run circles around this place.

Dean cursed to himself, of course what it all boiled down to was that this kid had to have the worst luck out there to not only get aligned with supernatural beings but get attacked by a vampire (possibly because of it). Who the hell knew.

He watched with wary eyes as Stiles administered the wolfsbane to the bullet wounds, unable to hide the wide eyed look of surprise that washed over his face as the black veins that were inked across the werewolf’s skin slowly receded until they were completely gone. How... How the hell did that work out? You’d think that maybe, just maybe, adding _more_ poison would do more harm than good, that it wouldn’t cure the effect that the wolfsbane had on the man. Really, they were going to have to have a long sit down with all of them once this was over with. Clearly, the hunters needed to find out what made the werewolves of Beacon Hills different than the other werewolves. Because, c’mon, how many different, for lack of a better term, breeds of werewolves were there? And, more importantly than that, did that go for other supernatural creatures that they had come across in the past? Like, for sake of this mental debate, were there shifters that would pass the silver test?

More importantly than any of all that, why hadn’t they run across them? Or, heck, even the other hunters? They would have at least heard of them in passing. At least, Dean figured that that would be the only way that this whole topsy turvy thing made a lick of sense. They had to have heard of all of this... right?  


Crap. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. They really needed to get Bobby up to speed ASAP. Maybe he could get on the horn and do a quick call to some of his hunter buddies, hopefully he’d be able to sort this whole thing out. He felt like his mind was threatening, teetering right on the freaking edge of going a mile a minute. He really could use a cold one right now to help him settle down. There was no question that that was on the menu later when they tracked down the vampire. Definitely a priority one on his list.

When his gaze settled back on the kid, he had to hold back a groan, eyes rolling exaggeratedly. Seriously? Seriously. There was a time and a place. Not that Dean usually adhered to the whole thing, saving someone’s life usually made them grateful, very, very grateful. But still. Did they have to start playing tonsil hockey right now? With a fucking audience no less? Christ. They could go do the whole... celebration thing after. When they were alone, out of eyesight and earshot. This was definitely not what he thought he’d be seeing today. Not something that he necessarily _wanted_ to see either.

Not that he had an issue with the whole gay thing, that was not the case; to each their own. There... yeah. The perfect thing to say to the teenager and his werewolf buddy macking it on the floor of a garage was that there was a time and a place and this right here and right now? Not it. So far from it that they would have to get a map and directions.

The older Winchester turned toward his brother, eyebrows raised in a classic ‘What the hell?’ kind of way. Much to Dean’s annoyance, Sam just shrugged, turning his back away from the pair as if trying to give them the illusion of privacy. Dean found himself, once again, rolling his eyes. Ugh, of course Sammy would pick now to show social niceties, you know, when they were neck deep in a preternatural clusterfuck.

Dean let out a breath of air before clearing his throat loudly, causing the pair to pull away from each other. Huh, well, that didn’t always work. Hell, it was pretty much a seventy-thirty split. Sometimes, the pair or couple (whatever, zero judgment zone here) was way into what they were doing that it took them a couple more minutes to come to their senses so-to-speak. Heck, if Dean was being honest, he was usually the one chasing after the retreating pair of lips, hand on the back of the other person’s neck and applying a tiny bit of pressure to urge them back-- not giving a damn about the world around them.

“If you two are done sucking face,” A voice sounded from the right of the couple still sprawled out on the cement, drawing Dean out of his thoughts and everyone’s attention to her. It came from the aforementioned blonde werewolf, her head shaking almost disapprovingly though her tone was light and teasing; heck, it sounded almost fond. Her claws were gone now and her perfectly manicured red nails were resting on her hips. Dean tilted his head to the side, allowing his eyes to pan down her figure from head to toe, actually able to access her now that she wasn’t wolfed out. She was... Well, freaking hot. Definitely a girl that he could see himself going after in high school. He always did say that good bad girls were hard to come by, they were pretty much a hot commodity. “We should probably go after that bitch that attacked Stiles.”

He heard Sam shift closer to him, but it was registered more in a distracted way as his lips curved in a smile, thinking of all the bad girls in his past. No matter how it ended or now short or long their little thing lasted, they were never forgotten. He appreciated every tawdry moment of all the respective flings. “Dean, one word: Jailbait.”

“Jailbait nothing,” he whispered harshly, feeling his neck grow hot with embarrassment. Sure, he could appreciate someone who looked good, damn good. But, there was nothing wrong with looking... right? It wasn’t like he was going to proposition her or anything. He was all for the age of consent. Especially since it was a legal thing. He didn’t always respect the law, but, in all seriousness, he wasn’t a creep. “I was just making sure that she didn’t have a weapon or anything on top of the whole tooth and claw thing. Jesus Sammy, it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

The girl stepped forward, crossing her arms across her chest. A slow grin that could only be described as feral spread across her ruby red lips, her brown eyes locking on Dean. “You saw us, you should know that I don’t need any other weapons. But,” She tilted her head to the side, soft blonde curls shifting over her shoulders from the movement, her gaze looked contemplative, as if she were warring with an internal decision. “If you want to do a full body search, maybe a painfully slow pat down... I’m sure that could be arranged.”

Yeeeppp. Jury was in on that one, unanimous vote cast. Definitely bad girl material. Dean shook his head, eyes darting around to take in the reaction of everyone else in the parking garage. Really, though. This chick would be flat out dangerous in a couple of years. “Nope. Thanks, but we’re all good there shewolf. Pretty sure that you couldn’t conceal anything in those pa-- Anyway,” The older hunter coughed, shaking his head once more as he tried to regain his composure. “We should go after the vamp. Cas was trailing her, still should be. That’s pretty much why we’re here.”

The other werewolf, dark skinned and still very obviously a teenager, took a few steps forward, effectively closing the distance between himself and the blonde. His expression was very stoic, standing beside the girl with his hands by his side. The dude was certainly intimidating, pretty much the same height as Dean, but it was more in the way he carried himself. It made him seem taller. Well, that and the muscles on top of the whole werewolf thing seemed to give him more of a presence. After a beat, he spoke, deep voice adding an edge of severity that hadn’t previously been in the conversation. Well, at least not since they shot the other werewolf. “Cas?”

Dean opened his mouth to answer only to be cut off by Stiles, who was climbing off of the red eyed werewolf-- And, seriously, what the hell was up with the different colored eyes? Couldn’t at least one fucking thing be consistant with the lore, or rules, or... whatever the hell? Christ, all of this shit was giving him a freaking migraine. “Cas stands for Castiel. It’s their angel buddy, angel of Thursday. Well, according to the Internet. Obviously not going to take it all at face value. So far, he can teleport and,” Stiles gestured to his face, “Heal with a touch.”

Stiles nodded emphatically a couple of times, his cheeks still flushed from everything that had happened. Dean took the short pause to take in the blood that had soaked through the front of his shirt. He knew that if the wound had been bad, that the kid wouldn’t be standing and talking this long after it had happened; even if adrenaline happened to aid in certain situations, he would have crashed by now. Not to mention, he would have needed to add pressure to the wound so it could get stitched up. The teenager gestured to the two werewolves beside him widely, “Erica, Boyd. These two dudes are hunters.”

A low grumble emitted from the dark skinned, Boyd, as he stepped in front of Erica, placing himself between her and the Winchesters protectively as if to shield her from an impending attack. Which, what the hell? Dean spared his brother a quick glance, as his fingers twitched as they held the gun at his side. He was careful not to make any movement, sudden or otherwise, that would cause them to attack. At this close range, he knew that the odds of a fight were definitely not in his favor. Hell, they’d be lucky to get out of there alive if they had three werewolves attack the two of them-- especially not knowing what would work against them apart from wolfsbane bullet.

Stiles flailed his arms wildly as he moved to place himself between the Winchesters and the werewolves, his back facing Sam and Dean. He gestured towards Boyd in a placating manner, clearly trying to reason with him. “Whoa, whoa there buddy. Not the Argents. Definitely legit. Dude, they have an _angel_ on their side that patched me up. I’m pretty sure Gerard would not have one of those like... ever. Maybe if he was being smited, which should very much be a thing. But,” The kid drew in a breath through his nose, placing his hands on his hips. “They just surrendered bullets to heal Derek. They didn’t have to, they had no reason to trust me... but they did. Granted, they did shoot him **but** I’m pretty sure they thought that he attacked me or something, but, uh,” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck as he ducked his head, hiding the wide smile that stretched across his lips. “They didn’t know. It happens. They misread the situation and our big bad Alpha is not going to hold a grudge, right?”

 _Alpha?_ Dean mouthed in Sam’s direction, who was already looking at him at the mention of the very word, his eyebrows knitting together in clear cut confusion. Obviously, they were both well aware that they had falling all the fuck the way down the rabbit hole since everything they had ever learned _their ENTIRE lives_ made absolutely no freaking sense and, you know, it was clear that they didn’t know dick about anything supernatural.

“Right,” Derek, the freaking Alpha said, moving to stand next to Stiles. He stared at the teen for a long moment before he turned his gaze, flashing red as he glanced at each of the hunters. 

Stiles winced, freaking visibly, his entire form hunched inward as he ducked his head to stare at the Alpha werewolf. He had both hands lifted, index and middle fingers pressed against his temples. “Dude, there’s absolutely no need to shout.”

Which... huh. Dean holstered his gun slowly, still making sure that he didn’t risk any sudden movements; he couldn’t really be one hundred percent sure with how quick they’d be to attack or anything. They might be temperamental or something. But, still. Whatever was going on with Stiles... Shit. 

Dean’s eyes widened in realization as the werewolf turned his head to the side, eying Stiles with a look of utter confusion. “Stiles, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, Jesus, you did. Twice now,” The teenager squinted at Derek for a long moment, biting down on his lower lip before allowing his gaze to dart between everyone, seemingly gauging their reactions. “Right? My hearing can’t be compromised as a side effect of blood loss or adrenaline... So... if no one else...”

The older hunter licked his lips as he took a step forward, hands spread out in front of him as a gesture of peace before he rested a hand on the kid’s shoulder. It hadn’t been that long ago that this had happened to him, and he did not remember it all that fondly. Sure, it was definitely preferred to be on the outside looking in, but that didn’t mean that Dean wanted the teenager to have to go through this. Especially if he was right. “Kid, listen to me. Did you drink any of her blood?”

Stiles’ eyes flitted to the hand on his shoulder briefly before his gaze met Dean’s. He could practically see the wheels turning in is head as he presumably went over the events of the night. “Uh, not by choice? She just kind of ... Wait. No. Uh uh. Nope. I am not turning into a vampire.” Stiles shrugged Dean’s hand off and paced back and forth a few times, hands gesturing in front of him as he worked through whatever the hell was going through his mind. He stopped abruptly, pointing at Dean. “I refuse to become a creature of the night, or, Christ, please tell me they don’t sparkle? If they sparkle, I’ll be planning on impaling myself on a stake immediately.”

The teenager placed both hands on his hips, letting out a frustrated breath out through his nose. “This, my life, is not turning into some crappy teenage romance novel with vampires and werewolves. Do we really need another star-crossed lovers thing? Nah. I was good running with the wolves, being human pack. For fuck’s sake, I like being human.”

Dean tried, really, there was restraint and all, not to snort and point out the fact that Stiles was a teenager... And he was just macking it to a werewolf.... _After_ a vampire attacked him. His life was already in the same (albeit a better story line) realm of those Twihard dicks. But, really. Dean was almost proud of himself that he managed to hold back. No amount of goading or poking fun would help the situation at all. Instead, he opted for turning toward his brother, throwing his hands up in the air. It wasn’t a gesture of defeat, not really. It basically just meant to exacerbate what they already knew. That the shit had officially hit the fan and they were a hairsbreadth away from being royally fucked. 

Sam cleared his throat, “It doesn’t have to be permanent, there’s kind of a loop-hole.” The younger Winchester paused, holstering his gun and crossed his arms. It was strange, how some people, namely the werewolves, seemed to have the same stance and look defensive. Sam, well, somehow he could also make it look reassuring. How the hell he had perfected it... Dean didn’t have a freaking clue. Maybe it was something that was just naturally 'Sam,’ not something that could be taught or learned. Dean mused that it was also due to the fact that he just had one of those faces.

“Dean was actually bitten before by an,” The taller hunter offered Derek a tight lipped smile before continuing, “Alpha vampire a while back. All we have to do is track her down and get some of her blood. It’s not going to be pleasant, my brother can give you the run down if you don’t want to go in blind... But, once we make a mixture with her blood and Stiles drinks it... He’ll go back to being human.”

And if that wasn’t the simplest way of summing up what they had to do. Dean offered an apologetic look in Stiles’ direction, knowing full well the range of weird sensations he was going through and going _to_ go through. “Yeah, and don’t forget that we have to make sure that boy wonder here doesn’t bite anyone until then.” Dean let out a sigh, resigning himself to the long night they probably had before them. The longer they put it off, the more likely it was that the kid was going to succumb to the blood lust and make a meal out of someone. 

So, right now they only had two options. They had to decide if they were going to all stick together and have the kid help track the vamp down or have one of the pups detain him until then. At least they would have the strength to make him stay put. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure that if Stiles accidentally bit one of the werewolves, if it would count in the whole path to staying human thing. There wasn’t exactly a handbook as to what was an acceptable or equal alternative to human blood. He wasn’t really feeling the need to roll the dice with the kids life right now.

Right. Dean let out a huff of breath, “I think it’s best if we just work together on this. Which, speaking of, Castiel,” The hunter raised his voice, lifting his chin up to look skyward. “Get your downy soft feathery ass down here.”

“Downy... soft ass?” Stiles asked incredulously, tilting his head to the side and looking like he was fighting back a bout of laughter. The expression that lined the contours of the teenagers face was an interesting mixture of amused and pained. “So... I was right then? I was, wasn’t I? You’re totally getting the D from an Angel. Good to know they’re, you know, anatomically correct like the bible says. Man, good for you.”

He let out a throaty chuckle before he realized what the kid was saying. Which, “What? No.” Him and Cas had never, ever done anything like that. More to the point, he was not getting the ‘D” from him or giving the ‘D’ _to_ him. They were just...

What were they?

They were friends. Heck, not that didn’t even cover it, not really. They were practically family after everything that they went through.

Still, that didn’t mean that they were like a thing. Sure, Dean had a handful of gay misadventures and, hell, maybe with the right guy... Well, maybe it would be okay. But, really and truly, he had never thought about it. Not really.

Lie. Okay, call him Pinocchio, because that was a flat out lie.

Sure, the thought might have crossed his mind from time to time. It was kind of hard not to. Give him a break, he was only freaking human after all. It certainly did nothing but help to urge this certain thought process when Castiel acted the way he did. Especially when he constantly; no, _consistently_ managed to get in Dean’s personal space. Well after Dean had, not one or two, but several talks at length about it. The only thing that made it worse, the thing that really made Dean think more about whatever it was that they had going on between them, was how Cas seemed to never really forget anyone else’s personal space save Dean.

There may have been a few nights, stolen moments really, thinking about the angel. Thoughts that could border on dangerous if he actually allowed himself to really and truly let it all sink in. Time was spent thinking about a pair of pale cornflower blue eyes. About soulful eyes that seemed to look through him, to peer into the very depths of his soul. Dean knew that Castiel saw him exactly as he was. He saw every flaw, witnessed him screwing up royally and, hell, if he was going to be honest, sometimes screwing Cas over as well. Even with all of this, despite it, he still stood by him. Believed in him. 

So, yeah. Dean may have let his thoughts drift to something beyond friendship with the angel, thinking about those plump lips and wondering just how Castiel would kiss. Would it be as intense and different as the man himself? Would his lips be as soft as they looked, contrasting with the barely there five o’clock shadow that seemed to always be present? Or, would the kisses be searing and demanding, making him feel breathless and more wrecked than he had ever felt from a kiss alone.

Fuck. Okay. Maybe it had crossed his mind more times than he liked to admit. But, what the fuck. This kid had only seen them interact once... How the fuck had he been able to pick up on... well, anything? Especially something that Dean himself had yet allowed himself to come to terms with.

“Dean,” the hunter turned his head, Castiel was standing by his shoulder, chest centered there as he stood but a few inches away from Dean. “I’ve tracked the vampire. She’s back at the apartment, there doesn’t seem to be a hive anywhere around Beacon Hills that I could locate.” 

Nodding, Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Deal with the weird ass and confusing feelings later, at least they only had one vamp to go after. Which, hopefully with a couple of werewolves on their side, would go off without a hitch. “Right, thanks.”

 

“I think,” His brother started, forcing Dean to look away from the angel. He sidestepped so that Cas could have a clear view of Sam and the rest of the group. “That we should have one or two of you stay with him to keep him out of trouble, just due to the urges that come along with the transition from human to vampire not that I think you’re going to just run off and get into trouble.”

Sam paused, allowing the information to sink in, eyes darting around and making sure to make eye contact with everyone for a beat. It was what Dean liked to call the _Sam Method_ TM. Make sure it seemed like you were fully communicating with every part of the party, make sure they were involved. Which, in all actuality wasn’t that much different from Dean’s own method; just less shouting and sometimes aggressive tones. Sometimes Dean felt like he was playing to the whole Alpha Male demographic, then again, some situations called for it. 

“Just to be on the safe side. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt." Sam rested his hands on his hips, his gaze resting on Derek when he continued on. Which was smart since the whole alpha thing, that meant that he was more or less in charge so-to-speak. “Then, the rest of us can go take out the vampire, we should have the necessary ingredients to mix with her blood to cure Stiles.”

Dean nodded in agreement before clearing his throat, “And Sammy and I have already been where she hangs her hat, the lay out is pretty easy to describe.”

“Uh, that’s all well and good. Glad you guys are willing to help out and play nice, really thank you by the way. But, there’s no way in hell you’re leaving me behind. And most importantly, I really have no idea why I have to point this out and be all Ackbar about this but...Trap?”

Stiles’ hands shot up in the air, gazing at the ceiling in anger before he drew his attention back toward the hunters. His eyes widened impossibly wide, disbelieving as his gaze drifted between the two Winchesters. “I mean, could she sense that you were there? I know the wolves are pretty good with scent, I’m guessing she has a different sort of skill set but I’m telling you there are some serious,” The teen gestured wildly around his head as if to further convey his point.“Seriously increased senses gong on here.’

“Stiles,” Derek crossed his arms about his chest, glancing down at the floor for a beat before meeting Stiles' gaze. “We have to make sure you don’t accidentally attack anyone. You don’t.... We need to be safe so you can go back to--

“Normal?” The teenager threw his head back and let out a barking loud laugh. “What even with my life...” He turned his back, taking a few paces away from the congregated group, running a hand furiously through his hair. Stiles paused for a short moment, staring off into the distance before abruptly turning on his heel and making his way back to the spot that he was previously in. “Alright. fine. I’ll stay behind. But I swear to god if even a hair on their perfectly sculpted bodies get hurt I’m taking it out on you two personally.”

“Fair enough,” Dean nodded, turning around and walking away from the group, not really caring who was the one or ones to watch over the kid. He really needed to get his head on straight. Dean knows, fuck, if his life is any indication of this he freaking knows that he’s good at pushing things that he feels aside, romantically speaking. It’s not at all helpful that this just came out of nowhere. Even... even if it was building up from the moment they first met (not to sound like a girl or anything). But, really. Dean shook his head, already starting to get himself in gear since the life of a hunter meant never putting yourself first. It was the job, it was getting rid of evil and saving lives. They didn’t have time to just... do whatever they wanted. Just like with Lisa. 

It’s never about the lives that they could have had, it’s completely about the lives that they can save by doing what they do. Like Stiles. They can save this mouthy kid from ending up as one of the things that go bump in the night... Even if he was smack dab in the middle of a freaking werewolf pack of all things. 

“Dean,” The gravelly voice sounded to his right, causing the hunter to cock his head to the side. Castiel’s gaze was intently focused on him, not that was anything new. Sometimes Dean was worried about the fact that Cas seemed to have such unwavering faith in him, that he of course was going to fall short, that he was going to let him down. Dean dreaded the day that Castiel no longer answered his calls, that he too would give up on him. “There’s more to this town than what we first thought. I think, I think that after we cure this Stiles, we should attempt to stick around. I’m not sure what it is... but this town... It’s different.”

The older hunter glanced back at the werewolves were they were talking to Sam, presumably sussing out the details of what they were about to do. “Yeah, I get that. Though, different how Cas?”

The angel shook his head, at a loss, “I, it’s frustrating because I’m not entirely sure how. But I do know that it may not necessarily be a good thing.”

Dean let out a laugh, clapping a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “It never is in our line of work, is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm a huge Destiel shipper. Anyone need that memo before now? Sorry. 
> 
> Next chapter is going back to Stiles. I'll try not to shift around too much with the POVs but I definitely want to do Derek and Castiel. Er... poor word choice. Accurate, but you know what I mean dearies.


	10. Let's call this an interlude... of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is caught up on the current season of Supernatural? Ghostfacers man, Ghostfacers. That's all.
> 
> I know it's been a while, not offering excuses or apologies, I just hope that people are still into this and willing to read it when I can get some time to write the updates. This one feels a bit short buuuuuuut I'll have a surprise or two up in the next few days. :-D Good things happen when a girl takes a week off of work for no reason whatsoever.
> 
> Either way! Enjoy the update and kudos and comments are always appreciated! Getting AO3 e-mails always makes me smile.
> 
> Thanks lovelies!

Stiles was glad that everyone was in agreement as to what the plan of attack was. Specifically, the ‘ _no more violence towards each other and completely on board the train of keeping Stiles human_ ’ page. The only thing that would make this whole situation better was if he could actually take in what they were saying without having to strain his ears. Because, literally, that was what it felt like. It wasn’t that his hearing was off or anything, it was definitely enhanced. He could hear everyone’s heartbeats and the sound of blood coursing through their veins; it was almost deafening. It was insane how fast this was progressing, it had only been about twenty minutes at most into the ‘transformation’ or whatever the hell. He had to wonder how long Dean had lasted after his encounter with the Alpha vampire (he really needed for the brothers to explain that in depth later) and how in the freaking hell he had handled it. He couldn’t really imagine that it had been too long-- A few days max. Stiles couldn’t imagine staying sane for much longer than that. 

The teen watched as they spoke, squinting his eyes and doing his best to concentrate on what they were saying. That way he could interject if the plan was poorly advised or if there was something that someone hadn’t thought of.

“We should split up,” Sam said in a calm, even tone. He chanced a glance toward his brother that rewarded him with a quick nod from the shorter hunter. “Two groups. One to take point at the front entrance and the other to cover the fire escape in case things go south and she tries to get away again.”

Dean gestured with his left hand, looking to the side as if he happened to be going over something in his head, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a back entrance to the building. Maybe the second group can do a quick check around the building. In case I’m wrong, we can have someone positioned there too.”

“That... that makes sense,” Stiles interjected, crossing his arms about his chest and going over it in his head. At least their plan seemed simple enough. The hunters knew how to take out a vampire and cook up the cure for him. They weren’t going in to this head first, there was a plan; a last minute plan but at least it was more or less sound. They had a back up plan incase the initial attack didn’t pan out. “How do you guys want to split up?” There was an even number without him if they counted Castiel, he wasn’t sure if the angel usually was a combat ready part of the Winchester’s hunting team. He didn’t necessarily strike him as one to fight tooth and nail, but who knew.

There was a brief silence as the Betas looked in Derek’s direction. The Alpha’s brow furrowed for a moment, his mind clearly mulling over the options set before him. Stiles drummed his fingers on his upper arm, wishing that they could pull away, that the werewolves could confer for a moment before giving the hunters their decision. Sure, the alpha would listen to their opinions but in all reality, he had the final say where the pack was concerned. “Stiles with Erica and Boyd for the fire escape. I’ll go with you to cover the main entrance.”

Huh. Stiles couldn’t really help the shocked expression that washed over his face. Surprised was a bit of an understatement... Flummoxed was maybe more accurate. Either way, he had been sure that if it was even suggested, That Derek would have needled him more about staying behind. Maybe have one of the Betas stay behind to keep an eye on him while the rest of them took care of this with the force of a hammer. On the other hand, Stiles couldn’t really be disappointed that Derek didn’t want to keep him in his sights until they were on the other side of this and he was one hundred percent grade-A human again. Well... he _could_ be disappointed but he understood the man’s reasoning... at least to a point.

What really left him confused, or at least curious about, was why Derek was agreeing, hell flat out saying that he, himself, was going to be going along with two hunters that he didn’t even know or barely trusted. _Especially_ given his history.

“I thought I was staying behind? Make sure I don’t go all From Dusk Til Dawn on any poor unsuspecting passerby, I mean, like the vampires not the crazy criminal brothers,” Stiles attention got away from him for a brief moment, mentally thanking that movie for existing for the sole purpose of seeing Salma Hayek in that get up. Though, it did provide a very awkward boner moment that he and Scott bonded over. There were many, many reasons why there wasn’t actually any awkwardness between them. They were true bros.

Derek shook his head minutely, eyes fixed on the ground. “I don’t want to risk her getting away again. This way, we have both entrances covered and two werewolves at your side to keep an eye on you.” 

“Kay.” He nodded, that made sense but the werewolf had _just_ said that he should stay behind. It was going to be one of the few times that Stiles actually adhered to the man’s wishes. Stiles figured that whatever Derek had mulled over in his head, this was what he thought was best. Stiles was most definitely not going to fight him right now, not in front of two hunters at least. “We should text Scott and Isaac, see if they’re nearly wrapped up yet...Back up would be good, its always good to have a plan B you know,” Especially given their track record. Stiles tilted his head to the side, trying to focus his thoughts. The cacophony of drumming in his ears was hard to think around, it was different than when he forgot to take his adderall. Things were distracting in a totally different kind of way. “Hell, even just a warning text is probably a good idea. What, uh, what time did they say they were going to be done?”

Derek took his phone out of the back pocket of his impossibly tight jeans; which, really. How the hell did he walk let alone anything else in those things? Inquiring minds absolutely need to know. “Not for another hour at least.”

“Well," Dean cleared his throat, eying Stiles for a moment as his lips curved into a half smile. “Before we go anywhere, might want to think of getting Stiles here a new set of clothes if we’re playing this not like we’re off to murder someone.”

Without really thinking about it, Stiles flipped the hunter off before looking down at himself. The teenager tugged at the collar of his shirt that was stained with his drying blood. He let out a groan, he really was going to have Google options of how to get blood out of clothes because this was his third favorite shirt. The fact that he hadn’t had to look that up before now was pretty much a miracle. 

How did Derek deal with walking around with bullet holes and blood in his shirts? Did it become more of a norm after awhile? Stiles definitely did _not_ want to get used to this sort of thing. Oh, whats that? Naw it’s not ketchup, blood from an epic fight down where the old mall used to be; No big deal. It was kind of tragic to think that people could get used to stuff like that. That Derek was used to that sort of thing. He needed a vacation from this, even just one day that nothing bad happened to or around him.

“I should have something in my car,” Derek paused for a moment, sharing a look with Boyd and Erica in their weird werewolf telecommunication, before turning and walking toward the exit. He nodded over his shoulder at Stiles, encouraging him to follow. The teenager looked around at the group for a minute before pointing and gesturing toward Derek before he scrambled to catch up with the werewolf.

“So, is this more to get me out of my clothes or just a kick to have your scent on me?” Stiles teased in attempts to break the silence that had settled around them. They had made it to the car quickly, but not fast enough that they would draw any unwanted attention. Stiles had kept up the pace with Derek, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders in attempts to hide his bloodied shirt as best he could.

Derek rolled his eyes, unlocking the trunk of his car before he began rifling around until he tugged out a duffle bag. Unzipping it, Stiles peered around from the side of the car, curious as ever and noting that the bag was full of clothes. Which, well, obviously definitely made sense. Derek probably went trough tons of shirts, seeing as how often other werewolves or creatures attacked. Stiles himself had seen a good number of the Alpha’s shirts get absolutely shredded.

“More of a not to see you covered in and reeking of your own blood,” The alpha tossed a dark blue henley at Stiles’ face, catching him by surprise. Derek peeled off his own shirt, rubbing off the remnants of dried blood off of his chest and stomach with the ruined shirt before effortlessly pulling on a black t-shirt. 

Stiles shook his head, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the man half naked before. Now was not the time to get distracted. He looked down at his ruined shirt, wondering how unpleasant it was for those with heightened senses to be around him at the moment. But, he was one of them now, albeit briefly. Tugging the collar of his shirt towards his face, Stiles breathed in deeply through his nose. He hadn’t noticed much about it, the smell of drying blood. It didn’t smell as appetizing as he thought it might for a transitioning vampire. Instead of being mouth watering or something, it just kind of smelt like copper and rust...ugh, all wrong.

Wrinkling his nose and tilting his head to the side, Stiles glanced at Derek, “Huh.” So, maybe the scent thing wasn’t a werewolf thing even if it was a wolf thing. He would have to consult a couple more websites about it, maybe ask one of the betas about it later. Stiles set the shirt on the hood of the Camaro, half turning away from the older man to pull off his plaid over shirt and his probably now ruined t-shirt. He knew that he didn’t have to turn away from Derek, it’s not like he hadn’t changed in the locker room hundreds of times but after the kiss, Stiles didn’t really know where they stood. He didn’t know if he wanted to know right now, just in case it was an answer that would disappoint him. It made him feel vulnerable. It also made him think earlier this week when Derek helped rub Bengay into his bruised skin. Still, this was different. Pulling the pro-offered shirt over his head, Stiles lifted his hands out, noticing how differently the shirt fit than one of his own. The biggest difference between them was sheer muscle mass, so it was a lot looser on him than it was on Derek but it was still comfortable.

“The scent,” Derek started, causing the teenager to turn around completely just in time to catch the Alpha’s lingering gaze. The lingering gaze that may or may not have been locked on him the entire time while he changed. Stiles felt the corners of his mouth turn upward in a small smile as the back of his neck grew warm. He wasn’t used to catching people stare at him like that, like he was something that they desired. Fuck, he may not know where they stood in the general scheme of things, but, that kiss was not just a one time thing. When this was all over and done with, he was really going to have to schedule some one-on-one time with Derek. “Having my scent on you? That’s just an added bonus.”

He couldn’t help it, he let out a lough laugh as he rolled his shirt and flannel into a ball before moving to toss it in the trunk of the car. Which, effectively put him in Derek’s personal space. “Wow, did you break something saying that?”

Despite the joke and in all seriousness, he liked this. Liked the little bit of information and how it was delivered, it was almost-- No, strike that, they were not on the edge of flirty banter, they pole vaulted straight over it. What Derek said, it was even suggestive, to have his scent on him. Letting other werewolves _know_ that his claim was set on him. File that away for later. Later when Stiles had time to get some answers about the whole scent thing. There had been vague mentionings from Scott when he was on one of his many Allison tangents. He remembered Scott saying that he felt more settled, anchored when he could smell his scent on Allison. Stiles really hadn’t been sure if it was a sex thing (which, really wasn’t something he wanted to mull over with his best friend in mind), or if it was just being around her and a scenting type of thing. Maybe it was something that he would be able to explore later. You know, with Derek all up in his business. Or vise versa-- Stiles wasn’t going to be picky about it.

The teen cleared his throat, trying not to get distracted by his overactive mind and focus on the here and now. He knew that they didn’t have enough time to talk or, hell, even do anything else. But, he had to seize this opportunity before they were back with everyone else. “Annnyway, are you sure about splitting up to catch up with the vampiress?”

Derek allowed his eyes to drift back toward the parking garage for a brief moment before he met Stiles’ own gaze. “You’ll be safe with Erica and Boyd, they’ll be able to keep an eye on you. It’ll be fine.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Stiles said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. The older man simply raised his eyebrows in response, waiting for Stiles to elaborate. He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. With his senses going haywire, it was taking more effort to make sure he didn’t lose his train of thought and forget the point that he was trying to make. “I mean, of course I’ll be safe with them. They’re pack. I just, I didn’t think that you’d be, you know, jumping at the chance to take point with hunters.”

The werewolf stared at him for a moment, the muscle in his jaw working, “You think that we can trust them.”

It wasn’t really a question at all... And, yet... Derek was still staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for an answer. With everything that had happened with these hunters, it would seem that, yes, they _could_ trust them. Sure, they sort of kidnaped Stiles and shot Derek; But, Stiles was pretty sure they were just doing what they thought was best. The Ghostfacers had led the Winchesters to believe that he was tangled up with some demons. All they actually did was have their angel buddy patch him up and try to help him out. And okay, sure, they shot Derek, but they probably misread the situation and maybe that he was the one that was attacking Stiles. Hell, maybe they didn’t even see the vampire attack him or anything. Even with seeing what they saw, they still trusted Stiles and surrendered the wolfsbane bullets for him to use to get Derek back on the mend.

Added bonus, they were going to help track down the vampire and supply a cure. So, they couldn’t be that bad, right? Stiles really hoped that this didn’t end up biting them in the ass. He really didn’t want to wind up as a vampire for the rest of his life. That just... no. It was not an outcome he was going to accept. At all.

“All signs seem to point to yes, though,” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, no doubt making it more of a mess than it usually was. “Though, the signs about people have been wrong before. But, yeah. Despite the stuff we saw online... I don’t know.” He paused, gnawing on his lower lip for a brief moment as he continued to think about what the hunters could have done differently. How they could have shot all of the werewolves and left them for dead. But, the fact stood on it’s own that they didn’t. Despite knowing next to nothing about them, only having Stiles’ word to go on, they still didn’t do what other hunters might have. If nothing else, Stiles knew that he should always listen to his gut instinct. “Yeah, I think we can trust them. At least for now.”

He didn’t voice the fact that they could be double crossed, that there was a good possibility that the other shoe could drop at any point. Stiles knew the other man well enough to know that sometimes-- who was he kidding? A majority of the time, Derek’s trust was hard to come by. Given his history and track record, it wasn’t really all that shocking. Part of Derek would probably always be thinking that the worst possible option was always a high probability.

Derek nodded, casting another glance toward the parking garage. With a shrug he closed the trunk of the Camaro and leaned his hip against it, effortlessly looking like the wet dreams that plagued Stiles. “Then that’s that.”

Which, wait... what? Stiles gaped at the man for a long moment, wildly gesturing with his hands, “That’s that? Just because I’m saying that we should, that we should trust them, we’re good?"

Stiles watched as the older man’s face contort into a myriad of complicated expressions, some of them completely new to the teenager. He was still getting to know all of the different and varied barely there expressions, so some of them were still new or completely foreign to him. It was sometimes hard for Stiles to gauge Derek’s reaction. “I trust you,” Derek said softly, eyes boring holes into Stiles’ own, making him feel like he was stretched out completely naked before him.

He really and sincerely couldn’t help his jaw literally dropping in shock. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been aware that Derek trusted him, but things with Derek sometimes were more shown rather than spoken about. It was difficult for the man to really open up to anyone, this was something that Stiles knew and accepted. With Derek, a lot of what was important was shown through his actions. Actually using his words and admitting something like this... well, it was big.

Stiles nodded, snapping his mouth shut and taking a few steps forward to put a hand on Derek’s upper arm, fingers curling around the meat of his bicep. “I know big guy, me too. I mean,” he looked down, letting out a slow exhale through his nose. “I trust you too. Well, at least when you’re making level headed decisions... sooo,” Stiles paused, ducking his head as a small, playful smile curved his lips. “Like sixty percent of the time. But, you know, I still trust you. Always.”

He met the older man’s eyes and locked in there. Stiles really would never get tired of looking into his eyes. And, the way they peered back into his eyes... fuck. He felt like there were so many things that were being left unsaid, that didn’t _need_ to be said because this was them. They might misunderstand each other and bicker like nobodies business, but when it mattered? Especially recently... They were more or less on the same page. If this were any other freaking time, if he didn’t have the start of supernatural hearing and urges of a vampire coursing through him; well, this might have been the perfect moment to throw caution to the wind and full on make out with Derek. And then some. Emphasis on the _and then some_ aspect of all of it.

Stiles wet his lips, noting how Derek’s gaze shifted to track the movement. The whole desire to kiss the werewolf again would have to be put on the back burner until they got things sorted out. And, really, kudos to their restraint because Stiles was about ten seconds away from climbing Derek like a tree.

“Granted, most of that trust is based off of the fact that they know how to cure vampirism,” he stated, letting the words tumble out of his mouth without much thought, his nervousness not exactly helping the situation. Stiles allowed his hand to slide down the length of Derek’s arm, stopping only to allow his fingers to circle the man’s wrist. “Which, thank you Captain Obvious, but yeah. That fact doesn’t explain why you’re completely A-okay with being with them.”

The alpha dropped his chin, gaze focused on his own feet, and, hell, Stiles could practically sense the tumultuous thoughts that were no doubt coursing through the other man’s mind. At the very least, Stiles had learned that if there was something difficult for Derek to say, it was smarter to just give him the extra thirty seconds to formulate what he needed to say rather than jump down his throat. “I don’t trust them enough to allow anyone else alone with them.”

Oh... Right. Which of course meant that he would endanger himself over anyone else in the pack. That he would ensure their safety while completely disregarding his own. Which was completely like him. Like the self-sacrificing loveable son of a bitch that he was. “Except,” Stiles smirked, ducking his head in attempts to catch Derek’s eyes. He knew what this meant, but, he had to try to lighten the situation. “For right now. while they’re alone with them and you’re out here with me assisting in pulling a costume change.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” Stiles said softly, wishing that he could make this whole thing easier and a whole heck of a less awkward and not complicated by not changing into a freaking vampire. Still. He was glad, appreciative that Derek and the pack were completely willing to help him go back to just being human. What he didn’t like was putting them all in danger. He was the one who helped get them out of danger, not one who led them headfirst straight into it.

“Just... watch your back. Everyone needs to come back in one piece, Okay?” Stiles rested his free hand against Derek’s chest, his eyes zeroed in on how his fingers were splayed against the dark fabric of his t-shirt where it was stretched over the older man’s perfectly sculpted chest. It only took a moment to drink it in, feeling and hearing the steady and sure beat of his heart, before his eyes trailed back up to Derek’s face. He couldn’t let-- encourage Derek to run straight into anything... He... Fuck. He wanted Derek to be safe even when it was his predicament that was putting everyone in danger. Maybe... maybe becoming a vampire wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.

No. Stiles never wanted to be a werewolf, let alone a vampire. They all were well aware of that. It was why he knew that the werewolves would do everything in their power to ensure that they took care of this. Stiles bit his lower lip, “And, by the way, ‘everyone’ is a totally encompassing thing. Meaning you too. obviously.’

Derek let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, “Did you break something saying that?”

“Asshole,” Stiles half-heartedly punched the alpha in the arm, letting out a loud laugh. He wasn’t sure if it was going to be awkward with Derek, their... whatever it was, relationship? Was that what they had now? The beginnings of a relationship? Whatever. He knew they were still in the middle in a really fucked up situation but he expected some realm of awkwardness, some like mis-steps but... This was different. Well, maybe it was too early to tell. 

But either way, it was nice that they were still acting, well, like them. Stiles felt himself daring to think and hope that this might work out for him. That Derek might actually be alright with dating him. Christ. It was far too early for this. He couldn’t even imagine going on _date_ dates with him and having Derek kiss him until he was breathless. And sex. Like all of the sex. Right. He couldn’t think of this right now, of them being all horizontal and naked... Oh god. Yep. Definitely not something he was going to think about right now. 

“Let’s get me de-vamped,” Stiles nodded his head in the direction of the parking garage. The faster that they got this over with, the sooner he could be doing the things that he was supposed to be thinking about. Ridiculous things like licking the lines of his absurdly sculpted abs, or becoming really, really acquainted with a pants-less werewolf. Not that they needed to go from zero to sixty right away, but still. It was a possibility now that he knew that this was a thing that they both wanted.

Derek tangled their fingers together, turning toward the parking garage before bumping his shoulder, “Yeah, let’s go take care of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, feels short. But then again, it's not crazy different than other updates. ^_^ More Boyd and Erica next chapter!
> 
> And there's going to be another POV shift in the next chapter or two.
> 
> SCHMOOP.


	11. Excerpt: Erica and Boyd with Stiles for reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A side chapter I probably didn't have to write but... the betas man. I live in a state of denial.
> 
> Sorry this is slow going, my lovelies. I hope you're still reading. XOXO

This wasn’t the time to get all sentimental and obsess about the way that Derek’s fingers felt slotted with his own. To pour over and pick apart everything that was said and done. Except he couldn’t help but feel the ghost of the weight of his fingers and the warmth of the slide of palm against palm. He waxed on, well, he wouldn’t say poetically, on about Lydia for years. He was allowed to obsess a bit over this, the reciprocated strong like he was experiencing.

“Erica, Boyd,” Derek called out to his Beta’s with a nod, pulling them away from the hunters, no doubt to give them some sort of orders or pep talk. He had been getting better at that sort of thing, over the past couple of months. Not just bullying people what he wanted them to do, but telling them what was going to happen and actually listening to what they had to say. Sure, it was still a work in progress and he was still the Alpha, but, it was something.

Stiles watched as they gathered together in a small circle, his fingers drumming on his thigh. 

“No matter what happens,” Derek started, glancing between the two werewolves. “I want one of you at Stiles’ side.” The alpha flashed his eyes at them, broking no arguments. He pulled out his keys and handed them over to Boyd. An action that caused Erica to roll her eyes, though she looked fond rather than flat out annoyed. 

Erica hummed before flashing a feral grin, lifting her right hand to pat Derek on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of your man candy. _Reaaaaaall_ good care.” With a final wink, she stepped away from Derek and turned away to strut over to Stiles, who didn‘t miss the way that the alpha‘s eyes flashed red once again with possible jealousy. Was that were they were now? Jealousy territory? Awesome. Stiles always wanted to know what it felt like to have someone be somewhat possessive (but not in a creepy way-- a totally one hundred percent welcomed sort of way) over him. He wasn‘t sure if it was what she jokingly implied or what... His attention snapped back to Erica as she was now standing right in front of him. "Ready to get this show on the road?”

“Only if my bodyguards are ready,” Stiles could feel the back of his neck still burning from Erica referring to him as ‘man candy,’ Which, was ridiculous. Not that he didn’t think he was at least moderately good looking and that obviously Derek was attracted to him. Obviously that was a thing. But, the whole ‘man candy’ status would totally go to Derek. From the ridiculous stubble along his chiseled jaw to the disarmingly good looks that even an angry scowl couldn’t ruin. Heck, down to the strong stretch of muscle that was his arms... Derek was definitely more man candy than he was. Which, don’t get him wrong, that wasn’t only what he saw in Derek. Not that he wasn’t, he definitely was interested in the man physically. It just wasn’t _just_ what he liked about Derek. It was the whole package that he liked. People could be attractive but still an asshole-- that wasn’t Derek. Well... he could be an asshole... But! Anyway. What was the point? Right. Derek was still way more ‘man candy’ material. “And, just so we’re clear, taking care of me definitely does not mean a blow to the head.”

There was a sound of soft, measured footsteps as Boyd made his way back over towards the group. “That was one time, get over it.”

“Besides," Erica jutted her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, arms crossing to push up her ample display of cleavage that Stiles liked to pretend that he was completely immune to. Still, even since that first day she showed up after becoming a werewolf, Stiles had not _once_ been caught staring or even glancing at them, caught being the operative word. Which was a feat for any teenage boy, or girl-- to each their own. “I said I was sorry.”

Stiles let out an indignant squawk, mouth dropping open in disbelief, “No, you didn‘t! Not once did an apology fall from those vixen red lips of yours.” He would have remembered it, possibly to hold it over her head for a while, but! Nonetheless, he would have remembered it. 

“I must’ve just felt really bad about it,” The blonde said with a shrug, not looking phased in the least at being wrong. Eyes flitting to the hunters that were just a couple of feet behind Stiles, talking amongst themselves quietly.

“Yeah, I can tell. Really keeps you up at night.”

~*~

Stiles was in the back seat of the Camaro, the windows were down as Boyd drove, cautiously following the now familiar Impala. It felt weird to have someone else drive the Alpha’s car, to be driving in it without him even. The windows were rolled down, Erica leaning her head to the side discretely to scent the air, they had agreed that both cars would do this so that the werewolves could make sure that this wasn’t an ambush, or even an elaborate trap from the hunters. Hey, trust was earned. As far as the pack was concerned, the hunters were still proving themselves. It would take a while before they came to any kind of trust filled agreement on both sides, Stiles couldn’t blame them. 

He allowed his eyes to drift shut, unable to focus on the passing houses and cars, making taking in their route and surroundings pretty freaking impossible. Behind his eyelids, all Stiles saw was red. It wasn’t a solid color, or even the backlit effect that sometimes happens when your eyes are closed and the sun is beating down on your face. It was pulsing. Flickering from a deep almost black red to the vibrancy of freshly spilt blood. Sometimes, having that as a real life visual for yourself made you re-think your life choices. Especially, especially when it wasn’t from scrapes or childhood accidents but in the real life _“Oh my god, why is that still bleeding?! Wait.. is that? Please tell me that’s not your spleen. Oh god. It’s totally your spleen. Excuse me while I upheave the contents of my stomach behind this strategically placed bush”_ sort of way. Really. Having something to reference outside of film and television without working as an EMT or in the ER... Well, it could make anyone question themselves.

He sat there with his head resting back against the headrest of the back seat, almost mesmerized by the pulse of colors that seemed to match the cacophony of the three heartbeats coming from within the car. It should have been nauseating, or even off-putting as the three different pulses echoed within the confines of his skull... But instead, it was oddly comforting. Focusing in it helped him feel less like he was unraveling at the seams. It helped him compartmentalize, to try and forget the rolling waves of hunger along with the dryness at the back of his throat that was beginning to feel like sandpaper.

Stiles knew that Derek had a water bottle in the cup holder up front that he could ask for, but he figured it wouldn’t make all that much of a difference to his current state of being; hell, with his luck, it would probably get worse. He knew that with different forms of vampires throughout mythology and pop cultures had different stances RE: food and drinks for vampires (or, in his case, those in transition)-- and some of them varied widely. Like, The Vampire Diaries had the whole food and alcohol supplemented and staved off blood cravings. Whereas BTVS was pretty much nilch, nada on the same topic. Older Mythology didn’t really explore this aspect, probably since they focused more on the whole blood only diet. Inconsistency was totally annoying when trying to suss out the real facts from the legends. The point was that he would rather not test it out without knowing what the outcome would be. What was happening in his body right now? This was something he could totally handle.

He let his eyes snap open as the car idled on a side street before pulling down an alley beside a factory converted apartment buildings. Stiles leaned closer to the window, noting the amount of windows. They were tall and probably brought in a lot of light depending on the time of day, a real estate gold mine-- provided they were on the right side of town. Though... wouldn’t the the windows be a problem for the vampire? Unless... well, unless like certain folklore, the sun wasn’t really an issue. Come to think of it, they never really did answer if he was going to sparkle in the sun, did they? Oh crap. Stiles let out a groan and hit his head back against the headrest, sincerely hoping that the supernatural chick came back to where she was squatting. If not, padlocking himself in the basement seemed like a good idea until he had a cure. Not only would that stop him from feeding, it would also stop him from possibly shimmering or burning to ash in the sun. One seemed incredibly painful while the other held the promise of endless mocking. Yeah, he was definitely hoping to avoid both aspects of the possible outcomes. 

“We’re here,” Boyd said as he killed the engine, the dark skinned young man waited a beat, presumably taking in the alley before sliding out of the car.

Stiles followed suit, getting out of the sleek black car, eyeing the two werewolves as they met at the front of the car, sharing a look with each other. Seriously, it was uncanny that they all did that. He leaned back against the side of the car, watching Boyd and Erica as they looked around the alley. He had to give it to them, they two of them seemed to be pretty well adjusted; you know, all things considered. The whole pack went through a shit-storm, but he had seen some of what they went through first hand. They should be reasonably fucked up after getting strung up and tortured by hunters. And, hell, after that they tried to escape Beacon Hills only to go missing for _months_. 

He still didn’t know exactly what happened to them, they had been reasonably tight lipped about it. Though, while Stiles undersood that sometimes things can be difficult to talk about... it doesn’t mean that he isn’t curious. But, he knows, boy does he know, that he can’t push them for the truth. There had been a momentary slip during a pack meeting that had him on the receiving end of a stern glare from Derek. Sure, yeah, he was used to the glares, to the threats-- none of that really phased him any more. But, this time? This time it was different. He had known it the second that Erica turned her head to the side as her shoulders rolled forward slightly, causing her body to curve into itself, losing all the confidence that being being turned into a werewolf. That alone was enough to shut Stiles up full stop. Whenever they were ready, _if_ they were ever ready, they would talk about it.

Either way, it was easy enough to let things fall back into place with the werewolves, even though their relationship with Stiles had never been all that strong or perfect, they still had something of a routine. Sarcasm, banter... And that was pretty much second nature to Stiles. It was easy to fall back into that pattern. Hell, it was even a source of comfort for all of them, given what trauma they had lived through.

“So,” Erica broke the silence closing the distance between them with easy grace. She leaned an elbow on the Camaro, brown eyes sparkling with mischief as she gazed at the teenager. Which was never a good sign. “Stiles how does it feel to be a supernatural creature? 

Rolling his eyes, he let out a huff of air. He didn’t really want to focus on the ch-ch-ch-changes that were happening to his body. Right now, he was firmly on the side of ignoring all of it until this was all done and over with. Maybe later he could catalogue the different things that were going on with his body during the whole transformation thing, but he wasn’t really feeling it right now. “Uh, I don’t know. Probably not much different than if feels for you to be all rawr and werewolf-y.”

“Well... I mean,” Erica looked down, a smirk curving her lips wickedly. “You should show us your vamp face, before it’s gone. We should kno--”

“No!” Stiles waved his hands before his body emphatically. “A world of no.”

“C’mon Stilinksi,” The blonde werewolf tilted her head to the side pouting, her eyes were round and wide, pleading to get her way. Stiles resisted rolling his eyes. Erica hadn’t quite perfected the whole puppy dog look, but it was pretty clear that she had been trying to take a page out of Scott’s book. The look almost worked for her, stressing the _almost_. The earnest and sometimes loveable good aspect was something that she lacked... Though, she did have other attributes that could help her get her way.

“No,” Stiles shook his head, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he glanced both ways down the alley before allowing his eyes to trail up the fire escape. Twelve feet or so off the ground couldn’t be up to code, could it? Someone could sprain or break something trying to get from there to the concrete. He made a mental note to look up the building and fire safety codes when he had a free minute. “Wanna hear it again in Spanish? No. I can also do German, Latin and French. Klingon too. You know, just in case you were curious.”

The beta let out a huff of air before tossing her hair over her shoulder, “C’mon, don’t be such a buzzkill. I just want to see if your face gets all bumpy. Spike’s eyebrows disappeared when he got all fangy. We can pretend its for science if it makes you feel better.”

“Or for the bestiary you’ve started compiling for the pack,” Boyd supplied in a bored tone, tapping away on his phone.Stiles eyes narrowed on the other young man, resisting the urge to shake his head. Traitor. 

Erica turned toward the other werewolf, pointing a red tipped finger at him and grinning toothily, clearly happy for the support. “Yes! If not science, for the bestiary. Since, you know it would be good to have _all_ the available information, you don’t want the information to be half-assed, do you?” She shook her head, schooling her expression neutral, though her eyes still sparkled with a bit of excitement. “No, that’s not you Stiles.”

He really couldn’t help but gape at her for a moment, starting a sentence three or four times before hanging his head in defeat. Which only caused Erica to bounce on the balls of her feet and clasp her hands in front of her in excitement.

“Listen, I don’t even know how to... you know,” Stiles gestured towards his face. He knew in the back of his mind that he could mostly describe what the vampire who attacked him looked like, but, it might be more concise to have as much personal and first hand experience with the transition process as possible. Well, you know, as much as possible without the whole blood sucking thing. 

The blonde hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side as she mulled things over. “Well, maybe you have to focus on what’s going on, if you’re feeling certain urges, you know, vampire related or whatever.”

That was pretty much exactly what he _didn’t_ want to do. Plus, they really shouldn’t be dicking around while they were supposed to be back up for the hunters and Derek. But, if it was for them to know how more about vampires first hand and could help others in the future... Well, he could live with being the guinea pig for that. Stiles drew in a deep breath now focusing on the feeling of hunger that thrummed through his entire being. He focused on that, on the feeling that felt like he could never be quelled. That the thirst he felt was something that could never be quenched. Instead of trying to push away the new instincts, the teenager allowed it to wash over him instead of avoiding it. He allowed his eyes to close, breathing deeply through his nose as the newer sensations were embraced. 

It was strange, allowing it to wash over him without trying to suppress it. Things that felt so foreign and at this time, so freaking in tune with every fiber of his being. Stiles opened his mouth, feeling the slide of teeth pushing through his gums in front of his teeth. It was a strange sensation, not exactly painful as they slid out in front of his teeth. Even though he already knew that the fangs weren’t like they were depicted in popular culture. It wasn’t like his incisors were elongating, it was a whole knew set of teeth which was a little awkward, but, if he was being honest, it made a little more sense (well, as much sense as it did in the world of the supernatural) than his teeth change.

Stiles ran his tongue along his new vampire teeth, trying to adjust to the different feel of the new row of razor sharp teeth. He lifted a hand to his face, pads of his fingers ghosting over his skin to see if his face had contorted at all. He was only vaguely worried about looking completely fucking ridiculous, though he hadn’t really recalled the woman who attacked him looking much differently when she bit him. Then again, his head was kind of yanked to the side to expose his neck.

A loud, brash laugh snapped his attention toward the pack members before him. Stiles cursed inwardly at having not realized how distracted he was with his little transformation. “Sorry Stiles, I-- we have to take a picture for pack reasons.” The blonde nodded, pulling a serious expression while the corners of her eyes crinkled with the laughter that she was holding back. “You remember we have that whole thing in place? Pretty sure there was a, what did you call it?” Erica paused, her expression becoming contemplative as she tapped away on her phone before knowledge dawned on her face. “Right! That pack protocol that states that if someone gets turned into something, or cursed, or whatever, temporarily, photographic evidence is needed.”

"Hey," Huh, it was really freaking weird to talk around dozens of little pointed teeth. Just a little bit of a slur but he didn't think they'd take that long to get used to. Not that he was going to get used to them. It really, _really_ wasn't fair that this was turning around to bite him on the ass, more unfair was that she remembered his exact words, more or less. "That was a joke! At least forty percent if a joke if Scott's gorgon theory panned out. Because a statue Jackson? Total Kodak moment. Not... This."

Boyd leveled his gaze on Stiles, arms crossed across his chest making him cut the very image of intimidating. “If it were anyone else, you would take the picture in a heartbeat Stilinski, admit it.”

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times to dispute the accusation, but, it was pretty pointless since he knew that Boyd was right, it was an annoying habit of his. He knew that he definitely wouldn’t hesitate if this happened to anyone else. Especially if he found it hilarious. They needed to run into something utterly ridiculous, like sprites. Could someone get turned into a sprite or a unicorn or a freaking Carebear? That would be adorable and ridiculous. Not that he wanted to get turned into any of those, but it would be hilarious if someone else did. 

Either way, Stiles knew that they were right and he had no leg to stand on here. He hung his head in defeat, “Fine. That’s it, you’re officially my least favorite beta’s ever.”

"Lies, you love us," Erica took that as her permission to take out her phone snapping a few pictures and even instructing Stiles to tilt his head this way and that. “Hey, look at it this way, at least you’re still an attractive vampire. Though, most paranormal romance books I’ve read hasn’t had unattractive vampires in it?”

He let out a barking laugh, shaking his head, “Why does it not surprise me that you read paranormal romances?” Erica shrugged, holding out her phone so the other teen could see what the difference was in his appearance. “Yeah, okay whatever. I still look like me with weird eyes and crazy jacked up teeth that are supposed to be used to drain people of their blood. Fantastic. Now, uh, how do I put these things away?”

The werewolves shrugged, glancing at each other for a moment before turning back to him. Boyd was the first to speak up, calm as ever, “Relax. Fight past the urge for blood, past whatever vampire cravings and try to focus on something else.”

Stiles let out a pained noise from the back of his throat, knowing that while Boyd made sense in theory, it was difficult to focus on anything apart from those senses. He squared his shoulders, he was going to figure this out. He closed his eyes, fingers balled into fists as he took measured breaths, trying to tune out the rush of blood and reverberating heartbeats.

It was nearly working when he felt Erica lean in close, hot breath on the side of his face as she went to whisper in his ear, “Think about how awkward it would be to blow Derek if you were afraid those things could pop out any minute. It would be like a B horror movie." 

He stumbled backwards a few steps, gaping at the blonde girl who was grinning almost ferociously at him. "Erica, I said de-vamp my face not scar me for life! Not to mention totally put me off BJs if this..." Stiles faltered for a second, the hand that had begun gesturing toward his face fell by his side. His skin began to feel clammy and cold at the thought of this not working out. What if she got away? What if they weren't able to get blood from her to drink? What... What would happen? Would he still be part of the pack even if he was a vampire? Could he even manage to still live at home with his dad if he constantly wanted to drink his blood? What would that mean? That he had to leave his dad, what the hell excuse could they come up with that wouldn’t completely devastate him? 

“Hey, at least it made your fangs disappear," Erica titled her head to the side, eyes sliding upward to the fire escape. After a hearing a scuffle she took a few steps over to Stiles, sliding her arm about his shoulders. "Don't worry, Batman. I'm pretty sure the dream team upstairs is finishing this all up right now. You'll be back to your amazing human self in no time." She squeezed his shoulder, ducking her head to catch his eyes. "Okay?"

Stiles nodded, a watery smile curving his lips. “Yeah, right. Of course.”


	12. Chapter 12

For hunters, the Winchesters seemed to underestimate the entire situation, even if it was just one vampire. Not that Derek hadn’t come across something like this before, rushing into things head first was one of his faults. But, this was supposedly what they did for a living. Maybe it was wrong of him to expect the cold execution of the Argents. For the hunters to be organized and efficient with their custom guns and arrows, back up on speed dial. The only phone call they had made was to someone named Bobby, the sentences were short and clipped; probably in code. They weren’t like any hunters he had ever come across. From his limited experience he could tell, at least from the left over sting from his still healing bullet wounds, they weren’t exactly inept. He supposed they were effective, but a little brash.

Grudgingly, Derek had to admit that it made him warm to them. A little.

However, his suspicions about their approach to the situation was confirmed, and fully illustrated, after Dean kicked open the door. The man only took a few steps past the threshold before he was thrown clear across the room, the sound of him colliding with the far wall resulted in a loud crash. The werewolf let out a low growl of frustration. This was why he should have taken point on this one. It wasn’t like the Winchesters had healing capabilities.

“Sonofabitch,” He heard the hunter curse, shuffling around no doubt pulling himself to his feet. Derek bowed his head as he shifted, claws extending as he put a hand out to Sam, communicating to him soundlessly that he was effectively cutting him off. He knew that they had bare-bones planned out their attack (which basically consisted of the buildings layout and in what order they would be entering the apartment), but Derek really didn’t give a shit right now. So long as they did what they came here to do, that was what mattered.

Sam pursed his lips together, eyebrows knitting for a brief moment as he nodded in deference to Derek’s choice of switching up their entrance, his fingers tightening their grip on his gun. Derek wasn’t sure if the brief hesitation was due to the shift in his appearance or if the man wasn’t used to deviating from the plan. He bet it was the former, considering they were hunters, they probably weren’t used to working with werewolves-- or any other supernatural creature for that matter. Maybe that was something that they would have to ask the hunters about after all of this. That was one thing he could make sure Stiles got from them. Information.

Just the thought of Stiles had a growl rumbling in his chest. He couldn’t dwell on that right now, any of it. He had to focus. As he walked into the apartment, he stood with his back to where Dean had been thrown, his eyes cut to the vampire where she stood just off to the left in the small kitchenette. The apartment was in complete disarray, stray articles of clothing, overturned furniture-- it smelt rancid. The windows had been smeared with a dark substance, presumably to block out sunlight. It was disgusting, if the vampire had heightened senses and living in this shit hole didn’t bother them or send the vampire into sensory overload... Yet another thing they could find out either when Deaton returned or from the hunters. For him, he wanted to open the windows and chase some of the grime away. It was a little like when he got to New York, not as bad in some parts of the city but it was enough conflicting scents that threw him off. Especially when he had always lived in Beacon Hills. The comfort of the preserve had calmed in a lot over the course of his life.

“Oh how cute!” The vampire’s voice cut through the near silence, grinning around a row of needle sharp teeth, her eyes ink black as they bored into his. Her hands placed on her hips, looking completely unaffected with their intrusion to her lair, though it couldn’t be a permanent residence, going from the state of everything and judging by certain scents, the vampire couldn’t have been here for more than a few weeks. Derek’s surprised they hadn’t heard of any of her kills, considering her attack on Stiles, she wasn’t exactly careful or methodical about how she feed.

“You guys decided to team up! Hunters and werewolves!” She lifted a hand and pressed it to her mouth, looking upward for a brief moment. “I mean, I’m flattered, really. I expected the hunters or maybe your little pups, but both of you. You really know how to flatter a girl.”

Derek had enough, he really didn’t care for quipy banter right now. Especially if she was just talking to try and draw this out. Whether it be to figure a way out of the situation or if she had any other vampires that would come to her aid. He let out a growl and lunged at her, swiping his claws at her abdomen. She shrieked out in pain before lashing out with a punch that landed square in the jaw. Damnit, she was strong, Derek shook his head.

“And this is all because I decided to play with your little toy,” She made a clicking sound with her tongue as they moved to circle each other. As they did so, Derek could see that Sam had his gun trained on them, Dean had brandished a machete, looking like he was on his toes ready to jump in the fight when he saw an opening. “You know, he does taste _delicious_.” The vampire paused, running her tongue over her teeth making a low humming noise. “Just delectable. Did you let him tag along? I really wouldn’t mind another bite before he breaks down and feeds on someone.”

Derek snarled, she was goading him, poking and prodding. He thought of the dried blood on the shirt in his trunk. Allowed the rage and worry to come to the surface from earlier when he had followed Stiles’ scent and saw the vampire attacking his neck. The long pale pillar of flesh that he had thought about scenting and marking as his own. There was absolutely no way he was going to allow her to even breathe the same air as Stiles. The alpha just saw red, the rage overtaking him.

The fight was a flurry of blows, resulting in the Alpha tossed her across the living room and almost straight out the window. He stalked across the short distance, kicking aside what he assumed was an end table before delivering a series of punches prior to seizing her by the neck and slamming her against the nearest wall. His claws sliced into her throat as his grip was tight enough that it was starting to crush her windpipe.

“Derek!” Sam was suddenly beside him, drawing another growl from the werewolf, his fingers spasming where they held the vampire in its place. He hadn’t really lost control like that, given into the anger like that in a long time, certainly not over the past few months at least. “We... we need to get her blood for Stiles before...” The hunter’s eyebrows arched as his eyes widened, nodding toward his bone crushing grip. 

Without a word, the Alpha used his free hand to hold out the woman’s arm out to the side. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Sam had the bottle with the several ingredients for the vampire cure in it, luckily it was just a plastic bottle so even if it was Sam instead of Dean who got thrown across the room, at least it wouldn’t have been completely useless.The older man walked forward glancing at Derek briefly before he branced one hand against the vampire’s arm while the other used the machete to slice a long cut down her wrist that caused her to squirm. Derek growled once more directly in her face, fingers tightening once again on her throat.

“Okay, we got enough,” he turned his head to the side, noting Sam capping the bottle and shaking up the contents. There was a grim sort of determination on his face.

Dean held out the machete to Derek handle first, “You wanna do the honors?”

“With pleasure,” he took the proffered blade, his left hand sliding away from the vampires neck to her chest, still holding her in place despite her struggles, it did help that one of the other men were still holding down her arm and that she wasn’t up to full fighting strength after their fight. She snarled at him, dark eyes glaring with pure hatred. Derek lifted the blade as he held her gaze and brought the machete down swiftly, effectively decapitating her. He stepped back, allowing her body to fall in a lifeless heap to the floor. Creatures like this were part of why these hunters were more of a shoot first ask questions later type. There was no knowing how many people she had carelessly murdered or turned just for fun.

The werewolf handed the blade back to Dean who wiped off the blood on the side of his jeans carelessly. “We’ll take care of the body. Kind of got that whole thing down pat by now.” 

Derek nodded, feeling a bit weary but glad that the whole ordeal was over. Well, mostly over. It certainly was simpler than he thought it would have been. But, he guessed that things do have to work out sometimes. Sam offered him the bottle with a toothless smile. “We’ll be in town for a few more days, can you contact us in a few days after Stiles is on the mend. Then we can set up that meeting that we’ve been talking about.”

“Again, just make sure he’s near a bathroom and a bed when he drinks that shit.” Dean grimaced, no doubt remembering his own past encounter with the vampire who had attempted to also turn him. He shook his head as he rested his hand against his hip, flashing a sympathetic smile. “Gonna be dicey for a couple of hours and there’s... Well, let’s just say it’s really not gonna be a fun night for him.”

Again he nodded, lifting up the bottle to inspect it. He really wished that Deaton was in town so they could verify this information before they let Stiles ingest it, not that so far the hunters didn’t seem trustworthy. It was just that if they were lying, he wasn’t willing to risk Stiles’ life for it. Then again, the teenager had said that he thought that they could be trusted. And their angel friend had healed him before... So, why do that just to gain their trust a bit just to poison him now? Even with his trust issues, Derek knew that it didn‘t make any sense. 

Derek smiled at the hunters, figuring that the least he could do right now was stay on their good side. “Thanks. We’ll be in touch.” Derek spared one last look at the deceased vampire before he started making his way out of the apartment. He momentarily thought about just taking the fire escape, after all it was were they were all waiting for him; but he figured Stiles would just call him a show off for it.

“Oh, and Derek?” Dean’s gruff voice caused him to pause at the doorway and look over his shoulder at the hunters. The older hunter rubbed the crook of his neck and shoulder, looking like he was debating his words or feeling a tinge of embarrassment. “Sorry about the whole shooting you thing. We didn’t know.”

Derek grunted, “Just don’t do it again.” He paused, looking between the two hunters who had assisted him in tracking down the vampire, risked their lives to hunt her down and cure Stiles. Derek ducked his head, hand bracing the frame of the doorway as he allowed his lips to curve into a barely there smile, “It happens more times than I’d like.” At least this time, he wasn’t completely caught unawares and he hadn’t had to traipse through the high school to track down an annoying teenager.


End file.
